


The Lights Flickered but Didn't Go Out

by handdrawnisopach



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dom/sub, Fix-It of Sorts, Gratuitous Smut, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Post-Order 66, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, gratuitous use of mando'a, references to imprisonment, references to slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handdrawnisopach/pseuds/handdrawnisopach
Summary: There are three things Cody knows: Concord Dawn is home and he'll fight for it, the only ones you can trust are the ones who belong to you, and Obi-Wan Kenobi's still the 212th's general even when his eyes won't stay blue.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura
Comments: 22
Kudos: 445





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the lovely folks over on the subobi discord, the Soft Wars series (though this is completely separate, much less fluffy AU intended purely as a smut vehicle with hints of plot!), and insomnia.
> 
> flitshadowflame was kind enough to beta the first three chapters for me. All remaining mistakes are mine.

The morning air was clammy and cool. The taste of rotting vegetation from the recently fertilized garden sat heavily on the back of Cody’s tongue as he watched the sun stagger its way above the treeline, hiding two of three moons. The heavy, ceramic mug of caf steamed steadily with heat seeping into his calloused fingers. It was early even for a household of clones who’d been indoctrinated to rise promptly after six hours of sleep. The banthas in the pens near the house were the only other creatures moving about in the thin, watery light.

Concord Dawn was technically still contested territory. Neither Spar and Fenn Shysa, who ruled from Keldabe, nor Bo-Katan Kyrze, who sat on Sundari’s throne, recognized the  _ Vode _ as Mandalorians of any stripe. Though Fenn Rau, who had been the closest thing the sparsely populated planet had to a leader, had welcomed Cody and the rest of the  _ Vode _ . Rau had been grateful to cede his authority to the former Marshall Commander and his brothers. Mandalore had pointedly chosen to ignore the exchange. Wisely, since Cody’s authority was backed not only by the majority of forces that had once made up the Grand Army of the Republic but the shining blade of a lightsaber. No-longer-High-General Kenobi wasn’t the man he had been, but in some ways that made him more dangerous.

A hard tug at the base of Cody’s neck informed him the subject of his thoughts was starting to wake up. Cody took a sip of his caf and padded back inside the sprawling, one-story complex where the men who’d once been called the 212th lived. Their  _ jetii _ didn’t have a bedroom. He slept like a tooka wherever he pleased, often with one or more bodies pressed skin to skin. Cody found him sprawled on his stomach in Trapper’s room. Boil was on top of the man, one hand knotted in his sun-streaked red hair pulling Kenobi’s head back up until his spine arched as he fucked into him. Kenobi was naked: pale, freckled skin on display for anyone who wanted to count the purple-black bruises running from his neck, across his shoulders, and down his sides. Boil had only bothered to undo his fly and push his pants down enough to free his cock.

Trapper had Kenobi by the wrists, arms pulled out in front of him and pinned so he couldn’t support himself. It left their  _ jetii _ hanging by Boil’s grip in his pretty hair nearly crying as each thrust jerked his head uncomfortably. Trapper cleared his throat pointedly when he noticed Cody watching. Boil paused, pushing Kenobi face first into the mattress and holding him there to ease the pressure on his neck. “Morning, sir,” he said between steady pants like he was enjoying a brisk jog, “you want a turn?”

Cody lifted his mug to Boil in salute. “Go ahead and finish up, sergeant. I can wait.” He leaned against the door frame and took a sip of his caf. His other hand slid down his chest and stomach to massage himself lightly through the thin material of his sleeping pants as he watched.

Kenobi moaned as Boil gave a brutal jerk, forcing their  _ jetii _ ’s head back further so the long, scruffy column of his throat was bared. Trapper shifted up the bed, sliding up so he was pinning Kenobi by the crook of his elbows. It put his mouth in range of Kenobi’s throat. There were already at least two blood-crusted bites Cody could see. Boil had a bad habit of playing rough and forgetting to apply bacta afterwards when he’d been drinking. Trapper lapped gently at the marks, irritating the injuries with sweet, sucking kisses.

Boil’s relentless pace stuttered. He growled, yanking hard enough on Kenobi’s hair that Cody actually took a step forward. A moment later, with a hiss of air between his teeth, Boil dropped Kenobi’s head slumping over the man’s back. “General?” he asked between pants. When Kenobi didn’t immediately respond, Boil sat up straighter, easing himself out of the round, pert ass. “Sir, are you okay?”

Trapper helped Boil roll Kenobi onto his side. All three troopers were greeted by sleepily blinking amber eyes. “Oh,” Boil said, petting a cheek stubbled coppery-red with the tips of his fingers, “you’re just not awake yet, are you, sir?”

“Awake enough,” their  _ jetii _ mumbled looking fondly up at Boil. “I do expect a neck massage later, Sergeant.”

Leaning down, Boil pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Kenobi’s mouth right over a bruise from being slapped. That’d be Trapper’s work. Boil didn’t trust himself to safely gauge impacts to their  _ jetii’s _ face. “As soon as the commander’s done with you,” Boil promised.

Trapper darted in to press a kiss to Kenobi’s forehead. “Water pouch,” he said holding out the small, refillable pouch with a bite valve in the corner. Kenobi bit down on the soft durarubber, gratefully suckling on it.

As Cody watched his men care for their  _ jetii _ , he could see the bubbling amber gaze recede back into washed-out blue as Kenobi wound down from the emotional overload. “I want his knees on the floor, chest on the bed, ass out,” Cody ordered, setting his caf on Trapper’s desk, careful to avoid the piles of flimisplast with sketches of ship modifications on them.

Like most of the troopers, Trapper had embraced the Mandalorian style of bed which consisted of a low, solid box frame about half a meter high with a sturdy, dense leathris-covered mattress on top of it. It was a hardy construction that could withstand the bedplay two or more eighty kilogram, extremely athletic clones without so much as creaking. Trapper kept a thick, padded rug next to his bed both to keep his feet off the cold, stone floor in the morning and because the bedframe was the perfect height to put a  _ jetii _ on his knees and bend him over for easy access.

Boil and Trapper manhandled Kenobi into place. They stayed on the bed, pinning down the  _ jetii _ ’s arms. As Cody watched Kenobi shuffle his knees, a trickle of pearly fluid escaped, running down one strong thigh. Kenobi lifted his head to protest the sensation. Trapper caught him and pushed him gently but inexorably back down.

Cody chuckled, kneeling behind Kenobi. He used his own knees to shove apart the  _ jetii’s _ legs until the edge of bed was digging into his taut stomach. With his legs so far apart, Kenobi didn’t have enough leverage to rub his stiff cock against the edge of the bed without help. “Shh,” Cody murmured, rubbing his thumb over the hot, slick and swollen rim of their  _ jetii’s _ well-used hole. There was only the slightest pop of resistance as he pushed his thumb all the way inside in one, smooth motion. Boil and Trapper must have been toying with their  _ jetii _ for most of the night with how softly he yielded to Cody’s probing touch. “Poor  _ jet’ika _ . You must be sore.” As Cody spoke, he used his thumb to tug at the rim. “I should just let you be.”

Kenobi shuddered, a wave of heat washing over all of them as his control slipped. With faux reluctance, Cody withdrew his thumb. “No!” It was muffled in the soft, bantha wool blankets piled high on Trapper’s bed but distinct.

“Of course I wouldn’t hurt you,  _ jet’ika _ ,” Cody crooned, running his hands down Kenobi’s side, scraping his nails across the bruises there. “I’m the nice one after all.” That was a step too far. Boil’s face contorted as he bit his tongue, but Trapper couldn’t muffle a laugh.

“ _ Kote _ ,” their  _ jetii _ whined. “ _ Ner’alor. Ni ceta, ni ceta. Gedet'ye! _ ”

Boil pressed down harder on Kenobi’s arm and shoulder to remind him not to struggle. “Boss, as fun as it is to watch you string him out, we’ve guests coming today.”

It was a valid point. While Kenobi sulking after being denied was adorable and usually led to some truly gorgeous desperate begging, that was something nobody outside the 212th needed to know.

“Good thought, sergeant.” Cody eased the band of his sleep pants over his hard cock, shivering as he fisted himself lightly. “ _ Cyare _ , do you need lube?” he asked, spreading his free hand over the small of Kenobi’s back and using his ‘Alor’ voice to make it clear the question wasn’t part of their game.

“ _ Nayc _ ,” Kenobi hissed, trying to shove his ass back onto Cody’s cock even though he couldn’t see what he was doing.

Cody shot a quick glance at Trapper and Boil, but neither seemed to think their  _ jetii _ was doing his ‘from a certain point of view’  _ osik _ . Cody guided himself into Kenobi’s warm, willing body with one hand while he leaned forward over the leanly muscled back to hook his elbow around their  _ jetii’s _ throat. He was careful not yank or squeeze, and it forced him to keep his thrusts to more of a grind. But Kenobi stopped moaning and wiggling, finally settling quiet and limp beneath Cody’s weight.

“Trapper, do you mind?” Cody asked through gritted teeth as he resisted the urge to slam into Kenobi with enough force to batter their  _ jetii’s _ cock against the side of the bed. Kenobi liked a bit of edge to his fun, especially with Cody, but now wasn’t the time. Trapper helpfully slid onto the floor, contorting himself so he could reach between Cody’s legs and squeeze their  _ jetii’s _ cock protectively. 

Kenobi couldn’t muffle his little whimper. Cody smiled, pressing kisses over the bruises he could reach. “Stay still now.” He released their  _ jetii’s _ neck and braced himself against the bed. Then he focused on slamming into Kenobi’s body without concerning himself with whether the angle or the pace was as appealing to the other man as it was to him. It wasn’t really what their  _ jetii _ was chasing anyways. Cody could feel the warm, gentle pressure winding through his head like it had always been there. Boil was humming softly, enjoying the sensation. It was too soon for him to get hard again, but that didn’t matter when their  _ jetii  _ was having a hard time separating how his ass felt tight around Cody’s cock from the pressure of Trapper’s hand and leaking that confusion to all of them.

There was shuffling from the door. The emotions pooling in the room had drawn attention from other interested parties. It was too bad really. They should have gotten up earlier. Cody grunted, baring his teeth as he peaked and fucked Kenobi through it until it started to hurt. Only then did he slowly and carefully pull out. Kenobi’s back was hitching in the way that meant he’d spent early on and Trapper was still jerking him off.

“Leave off,” Cody ordered, noticing Boil was nibbling on the curve of one pale ear. “Trapper, you too.” He settled onto the rug gathering their  _ jetii _ into his arms. Kenobi was shivering, eyes so bright they were almost the color of electrum. He flinched when Trapper went to rub along his leg. “Hello,” Cody murmured to catch their  _ jetii’s _ attention. “I know it’s a lot,  _ cyare _ , but I need you to tell me if you’re with me.”

Kenobi licked his kiss-swollen lips, parting them just a little the way he did when he wanted a cock in mouth but had been told not to speak. Cody chuckled and shook his head. “No. We’re done, Obi-Wan. The lads in the hall will have to wait until tomorrow.” There was a chorus of groans and some swearing, but the crowd, and the lust they were no doubt feeding into the Force, dispersed. Cody combed his fingers through the now sweat-clumped red hair waiting for Kenobi to pull himself out of other people’s heads. Trapper and Boil were moving around, stripping dirty linens, and picking up abandoned clothes.

Trapper brought Cody his caf while Boil disappeared down the hall and returned from the shared fresher with a bowl of warm water and a small stack of towels. Cody waved him off for the moment. It didn’t matter if the towels were the finest Nubian silk. Any contact that wasn’t firm, constant bare skin was too much when Kenobi was shaking like this. Cody was pleased to see that Boil, a little guiltily, had set the jar of bacta gel by the bowl.

“Cody?” Kenobi finally rasped blinking up at Cody like he’d just woken up from deep sleep. Bubbles of amber rose from the depths of his pale blue eyes, bursting to gold before fading.

“Welcome back, sir.” Cody finished draining his caf mug. “Water?” Kenobi opened his mouth obediently when the water pouch was offered, draining it flat. “How are you feeling?”

Limbs cautiously flexed and stretched. Kenobi grimaced as he felt the mess trickling out of his ass. “I’m fine, Cody.”

“Uh-huh.” Cody grabbed a small towel and dunked it in the bowl of lukewarm water threateningly.

Kenobi glared at him. “Fine. I’m a bit sore and… tingly.”

Cody gave him a supremely unimpressed look. The Force-driven highs their  _ jetii _ experienced when playing bedroom games with multiple  _ vode _ could have strange side-effects. “Boil, comm Tranq. We need a housecall.” He put a hand over Kenobi’s stubborn mouth before he could argue. “That’s an order,  _ ner’jetii _ . You can always say no, but you remember our deal?”

“Call Tranq,” Kenobi finally, grudgingly allowed like he had every other time. There were only three rules Cody had forced Kenobi to swear to before letting him join the  _ vode’s _ private games. Know everyone's tap-out and obey them. Check with the medics, or someone more experienced, before trying something potentially dangerous. If anything might possibly be wrong, have a medic look them over.

Kenobi hadn’t needed more explicit rules than that since they’d brought their  _ jetii _ home. He was still their  _ jetii _ , a little sharper at the edges, a little colder with people who weren’t  _ vode _ , and with eyes that didn’t stay blue. But still the 212th’s general.

Tranq just sighed when he saw Kenobi sprawled across Cody’s lap covered in bite bruises. “I see you had a good night, General. Let’s see what we can do to make sure you’re not feeling it all day.”


	2. Chapter 2

Padme tried not to fidget as the shuttle pilot went through the process of getting landing clearance on the heavily fortified planet. Ships that had once been Jedi Cruisers had been repurposed to build a planetary defense grid. Smaller sensor buoys floated between the ships providing the targeting system for the orbital cannons somewhere on the planet’s surface. Strange, spikey satellites orbited slightly closer to the planet's surface making sensors unreliable and jamming encrypted communications. The  _ Vode An _ had been raised for war. They were just as willing to use violence to protect their hard won peace.

Senator Mon Mothma and Senator Riyo Chuchi sat across from Padme representing the Republic. Master Aalya Secura and Master Plo Koon represented the Jedi. Padme had been asked to accompany them by the chancellor himself, Bail Organa, despite her status as a private citizen. The queen had emphasized the request so Padme had left her post as an administrator at a refugee re-settlement center and caught a public transport to Coruscant.

She felt underdressed sitting across from her former colleagues in the plain, hard wearing tunics and boots that were an aid-workers uniform. Her once long hair had been cropped to bob just below her ears for ease of cleaning. Her co-workers had scrambled to find her a bit of facepaint so she could at least apply a thin layer of foundation, some kohl around her eyes, and a touch of color to her lips and cheeks. She’d worn it more to please than because she cared. Padme Naberrie didn’t have to consider her appearance as Padme Amidala once had.

Riyo cleared her throat. It had been a long, awkwardly silent flight so far. Padme had felt no need to answer the questioning looks. “How are the children?” Riyo asked with genuine kindness.

“Bail tells me they’re doing well. Queen Breha is a fine mother. I’m indebted to them.” Padme did try to see her children every few months. But they were of an age that they forgot her in between visits. Bail and Breha were much better parents than Padme could manage. Some days, Padme struggled to take care of herself. She wasn’t sure what she would have done as a single mother.

Sensing her lack of interest in the topic, Riyo gave a wan smile and settled back into the slightly uncomfortable silence. Master Secura caught Padme’s eye and gave her a tired, sympathetic grimace. The more scandalous rumors said that the former general had a child of her own in those months of chaos between Palpatine declaring himself emperor and the GAR uprising that restored the Republic. Padme wasn’t sure what she believed, but she felt for the other woman regardless. Master Secura hadn’t seen the men she’d fought beside since a GAR shuttle had dropped her off along with the other missing Jedi a year ago, including the commander who was the rumored child’s rumored father.

The pilots, a pair of Alderaanians who’d served as medical transport pilots in the GAR’s very small non-clone volunteer company, set the shuttle down on the outskirts of the ‘city’. The shuttle port was classic GAR pop-up construction with modular framed shelters and quick-set duracrete pads built in depressions made by using the foot of an armored walker as construction shovel. Through the shuttle’s windows, Padme could see the mass of white armored bodies with faces covered by white helmets. The only distinguishing feature was their armor paint, which was no longer monochromatic. Most of the clones sported multiple unit’s colors twining across the white background.

The exceptions stood slightly apart from the crowd to greet the dignitaries. The clones standing in formation all wore the single color of their original company in the original pattern from the war. Commander Cody was at the head of the group flanked by Captain Rex and Commander Fox. Behind them, Padme recognized Commander Wolffe by the distinctive markings on his helmet. The rest she would just be guessing at.

There was a moment of stillness as the clone commanders appraised their guests, and the Republic's diplomats let themselves be stared at. The moment was broken by Commander Wolffe. He stepped to the side, out of line. “Buir?” he asked tentatively.

Master Koon let out a deep, rumbling sigh of relief. “It is good to see you, son.”

Like Master Koon’s words were a signal, the clones broke ranks to crowd around the Jedi or wandered off when it became clear only two Jedi were present. Only Commander Cody, Commander Fox, and Captain Rex approached the senators and former senator.

Padme took initiative to break the ice since she was friendly with all three men. “It’s good to see you.” She held out her hand to Captain Rex in greeting. “Is Ahsoka with you?”

Rex gave her a quick forearm clasp in the manner of two of the  _ Vode _ greeting each other. “The commander is at the five-oh-first’s base on the southern continent. She’ll be arriving this evening.” More hesitantly he added, “Cody’s general won’t be joining us.”

It was kind of Rex to avoid even saying Obi-Wan’s name but unnecessary. “Is he well?” Padme asked because she did care even if it was tangled up with the nightmare of losing her husband.

“Better,” Commander Cody replied for his brother. “Being here helps. But seeing other natborns makes it worse. Commander Tano will be standing in for him.” He spoke crisply with a certain level of distance that Rex didn’t have. “Senators, Mistress Naberrie, Commander Fox will take you to your rooms and explain the security measures. There will be a formal dinner tonight. Negotiations will commence tomorrow morning.”

Mon Mothma spoke up when it became obvious he wasn’t going to address the plans for their Jedi escort. “Will Master Secura and Master Koon be joining us?”

Cody looked over at a cluster of men packed in so tightly there wasn’t even a glimpse of a blue lekk. “The generals will address their preferences to Bly and Wolffe. However, I know both the Wolfpack and the three-twenty-seven were planning on taking their generals to tour their bases. If the generals agree, they will return tomorrow evening.” He didn’t indicate whether the Jedi’s estimated return time was based on their acceptance of a tour - or whether they would agree to return at all.

When Palpatine’s attempt to turn the GAR against the Republic had gone haywire, some of the clones had killed their Jedi generals. Most clone commanders had simply put their general on a ship and told them not to come back. There were a handful, including Master Secura and Master Koon, who had been functionally kidnapped by their own men. Those Jedi had all been returned to the Temple after Palpatine’s death. All except Anakin Skywalker and his master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Captain Rex and Ahsoka had brought Anakin’s body to Padme on Naboo, where she’d retreated to her family home to recover from her imprisonment by the self-proclaimed emperor. Anakin’s master was, officially, still missing.

Rex shifted so he was slightly between Padme and Cody. It was sweet, if unnecessary. Commander Cody had always been cool towards anyone that wasn’t one of his brothers or his general. Padme wasn’t offended he’d abandoned the half-hearted facade of diplomatic good manners. “I’ll take Mistress Naberrie to her room, Cody,” Rex offered.

The commander nodded. “Fox, see to the senators. I’ll check the ship.”

Padme didn’t flinch, neither did Mon Motha. Riyo did, a little, at the dismissive way Commander Cody announced his distrust. That more than anything his tone told Padme how things had changed. This wasn’t the Negotiator's right-hand. This was Kote who led the  _ Vode An _ . The man who ended Palpatine’s dreams of empire. The only reason the Republic still stood was because Kote refused to put anyone on Palpatine’s empty throne.


	3. Chapter 3

Cody didn’t take off his bucket until he was safely behind the blastproof doors of his ‘office’. In actuality, it had once been the security center for the mining complex they’d converted into the official government building and residence. Fox was the only one with a permanent desk since he’d chosen to continue his role of gatekeeper, standing between the  _ Vode An _ and the rest of the galaxy. What was left of his Coruscant Guard had stayed with him. Their ranks were bolstered with a rotation of volunteers from other units.

Normally, Cody would have left dealing with the Republic’s attempt at outreach to Fox, who had better intel on everyone involved. Except Padme Naberrie had been on the list of arrivals as a ‘civilian consultant’. Where Rex went, Cody followed because there were no more regs to stop him. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t rather be back at the 212th’s compound watching the agricultural team fuss over the latest results from their crop scans and the banthas’ bloodwork.

The goal was true self-sufficiency with enough left over to trade for luxury goods. There were always merc contracts and bounty hunting gigs if they needed quick creds, but Cody was looking forward to the day when it wouldn’t be a necessity. He didn’t like being away from home now that he had one.

With that in mind, Cody tapped on the corner of the desk to turn on the built in holocomm. He entered the code for the compound’s primary contact line. Wooley answered. “Commander! Is everything alright, sir?”

Cody set his bucket on the desk letting himself slouch back in the chair. “Situation is blue sky,  _ vod _ . Fox is dealing with the emissaries. Rex is busy following around his ex-general’s  _ riduur _ like a nervous strill. I’m technically writing up the security report on the shuttle everyone arrived in.” Wooly handsigned the question out of old habit. “Shuttle was clean. The pilots were GAR volunteers back in the day. They’re more interested in drinking with their old gunners than intelligence gathering. Apparently the senate understood our last message.”

Orn Fre Taa and Tarkin hadn’t been returned in pieces, per se. Everything was technically still attached when Cody, Doom, and Bacara had finished with them. The natborn commandos they’d tried to smuggle in? Those had been sent back with the heads in one crate and the bodies in another. Mas Ammeda had lost his position as interim chancellor for that debacle.

“Good to hear. The general will be pleased.” Wooley’s grin went crooked. “You alone, sir?”

Cody glanced at the security camera bank to verify he wasn’t likely to be disturbed. “Yes.”

“I’m forwarding the camera feed from the main room to your datapad. You’ll want to see this.” Wooley’s image disappeared, replaced with the symbol for streaming data.

Cody picked up his datapad and turned it on. It was the camera feed from the compound’s main rec room. They’d installed cameras there mostly so  _ vode _ on off-planet contracts could look in and see everyone. It was also good for moments like this. Their  _ jetii _ was sprawled faceup on a large, padded footstool just long enough his ass rested on edge while his head hung off the other side, nearly perpendicular to the floor. Cody only got a brief glimpse of his face and the sleeve of someone’s old blacks tied around his head to cover his eyes before Crys slid his cock back between parted, welcoming lips.

Tranq was settled between Kenobi’s knees looking almost serene as a Jedi. He had two fingers and a thumb clenched in a tight circle around the base of their  _ jetii’s _ cock. Cody couldn’t see the medic’s other hand. From the way the defined muscles off Kenobi’s stomach jumped every so often, though, he could guess where his fingers were. Knowing Tranq, Kenobi had been suffering for a while.

The slight convex shape of the footstool, not intentional but a byproduct of someone’s first attempt at carpentry, did lovely things to their  _ jetii _ . Kenobi’s hands were clenched around the stool’s feet to keep them out of the way. It displayed the long, lithe lines of his fencer’s build: the slight definition of his pectorals down to the clean cut abdominals and sharp crest of his narrow hips.

Crys was leaning over enough that there wasn’t much to see there, except for the way his fingers gently stroked along the same part of the soft, pale throat every time he thrust forward. He pushed all the way in and paused for a moment. Tranq leaned forward just enough to take the weeping head of Kenobi’s cock into his mouth. His lips pursed as he started to suck with what Cody knew was far too much pressure. Their  _ jetii _ arched further, body bucking as he gagged on Crys’ cock while Tranq’s mouth followed the desperate motion without letting up.

Crys pulled back after a moment to let Kenobi gasp for air, giving Cody a better view at the same time. Tranq softened his mouth, moving to a proper blowjob as the man beneath him writhed. Kenobi’s hands never moved from where they’d been put. Wooley appeared in frame carrying a comm unit. He nodded to Crys before kneeling next to Kenobi’s head. Tenderly, he flicked away strands of hair from Kenobi’s forehead where they’d adhered with sweat before pressing a kiss to the smooth, freshly shaved chin. With Crys out of the way, Cody could see the streaks of saliva running down Kenobi’s cheeks into his hair. There were obvious damp patches on the blindfold though it was impossible to tell if it was spit or tears.

Wooley held up the comm unit and turned it on. Suddenly, Cody could hear the painful, near sobbing heaves of their  _ jetii’s _ chest echoing from the speaker in the desk. “General,” Wooley said tenderly, “it's the commander. He’s watching the cameras right now.” There was a soft, pleading whine.

“Shh.” Cody’s gentle hush was automatic. “Easy, sir. I’m here. Hell of a show you’re putting on with our boys. Makes me feel like I’m home. Why don’t you go ahead and let Crys finish on your face? I’d like to see that if you don’t mind, lieutenant.”

Slightly more muffled, Crys replied, “No, sir. Fine by me. Tranq, slow it down, brother.” Tranq’s head stopped bobbing, slowing until he was just holding the tip of Kenobi’s cock between his lips.

Cody sat back in his chair, spreading his legs for all the good it would do. He refused to pop off his plates and jerk off in Fox’s office. The wily bastard would know and never let him live it down. He would, however, see if Rex was willing to share a shower later in trade for a re-telling. “Make him choke a little, Crys,” Cody ordered, smiling as Kenobi moaned, half-reluctant, half-desperate, and with a voice so fucked out it scratched.

Crys obeyed orders with verve and a wide, toothy grin. He gripped Kenobi’s bottom jaw in one hand and with the other he fed their  _ jetii _ his cock. The first push was painfully slow. Crys held himself there, the head of his cock in Kenobi’s throat for a long minute. Then he started fucking the already ruined mouth like a shiny who didn’t know it was better when you took more than thirty seconds to pop off. It wasn’t long before he had to pull out and finish himself with his hand. Kenobi flinched as the first hot splatter landed across his chin.

Crys put a soothing hand on the strong, smooth chest, leaning forward as he carefully pumped the last few spurts onto that lovely face. “Tongue,” he said crisply. Kenobi stuck out his tongue letting Crys clean himself with it before stepping back.

Wooley was already moving to take off the filthy blindfold without Cody having to tell him. “How is he?” Cody demanded, impatient for Crys to get himself together enough to check their  _ jetii _ properly.

“He’s good, commander,” Crys reported sinking down next to the footstool. He wiped two finger’s through the mess on Kenobi’s face before pressing them against the red, puffy lips. A pink tongue flicked out nexu-quick to lick them clean. Crys followed it up with a gentle, upside down kiss before sliding lower to press their foreheads together.

A loud beep from the camera bank warned Cody there was someone coming down the hallway. It was Fox. “All of you be good,” Cody said with just an edge of his command voice. “I’ll be back in a few days. Tranq, our  _ jetii _ can come, but make sure he doesn’t enjoy it.”

Tranq’s grin was predatory. “It’ll be my pleasure, commander,” he purred, twisting his fingers inside Kenobi until the man let out a hoarse noise not quite loud enough to be a scream.

Cody shut down the connection just as Fox opened the door. “You ran,” Cody noted even though Fox was successfully hiding his panting behind his bucket.

“I saw an incoming comm from your base. Figured I should get a few clips for my private collection,” Fox responded, refusing to admit he had sprinted down the hall hoping to catch Cody doing something embarrassing.

“I can ask the general if you really want some, but he’s a bit shy so I wouldn’t hold your deece.” Cody opened up the report template on his datapad. “I thought yellow eyes weren’t your thing.”

Fox pulled off his own bucket, glaring blasterbolts. “Who said I wanted a vid of his face,  _ Kote _ . Anyways, isn’t the whole point of fucking him supposed to be helping with the…” He wiggled his fingers in the handsign for ‘scary Force banthashite’.

Cody resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fox would enjoy it too much. “Feeling connected to us is what helps him control himself. Fucking is just an easy way to make those biochems. It’s the emotion that matters.”

“And I nearly killed one of your  _ vod’ika’s _ ARC brats,” Fox finished for him with just a touch of bitterness. The general had always managed to control himself around Fox. He knew Fox had just been following orders when he’d taken a shot at Fives, but the part of the general that made his eyes go gold wasn’t quite as forgiving.

“Give it time,  _ vod _ ,” Cody said seriously. “Remember the fight he had with Alpha right after we brought him home? And he’s friends with the sour  _ chakaar _ .”

Fox grunted, but his shoulders weren’t up around his ears anymore. “Get that report filed so I can tell Thire to stop stalking the shuttle pilots.” Cody tossed off a pointedly sloppy salute before he started typing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is not betaed so you're going to have to put up with my grammar.

Bly’s fingers collided with the lip of his bucket again. He winced. The tattoos on his cheeks had been freshened up when he’d seen the list of who would be arriving on the Republic shuttle. He’d gotten the blue bands around his biceps touched up as well, but the tattoos on his body never itched quite as much as the ones on his face as they healed.

General Secura smiled at him. She didn’t have to ask why he was sighing. “Let me see,” she said. The words curled around her tongue the way no  _ vod’s _ ever quite did. Something inside Bly unknotted to hear the fond exasperation. He took off his helmet to display the marks, as fresh and raw as the first time they’d met.

Her eyes were the same hazel-brown as any  _ vod’s _ . It’d made it easy to trust her back then. She’d repaid that trust in kind and returned in a thousand times over. “Oh, Bly,” she sighed, reaching up but not quite touching his tattoos. “Why?”

“Sun exposure made the ink patchy.” Bly felt a little sting as he blushed. “I haven’t seen you in awhile, General. I didn’t want you to think I’d completely forgotten grooming standards.”

The general lifted his chin with the tips of her fingers. “It’s good to hear you’re spending time outside your armor.” Her fingers trailed up his slightly scruffy chin, her eyes always lingered a little longer when he had stubble, to brush against his bottom lip. She pressed down softly with the calloused pad of her index finger pushing his lips apart just slightly. The itching washed away with a trickle of cool, familiar energy. When she finished, she brushed her knuckles over his mouth in a kiss that wasn’t a kiss.

Bly was grateful. He was absolutely certain he would die on the spot if she did kiss him in front of their men. His heart would stop, and he’d go join her Force to stay by her side forever. “Bly,” General Secura said just a touch sharply.

“Sorry, sir,” Bly replied, shaking off his sudden shock of nerves as he remembered he wasn’t alone in his head. “I’ve been meditating, but it’s not the same without you. I’m out of practice.”

“The strain on the bond has affected you?” she asked, concerned. “I know you wished to keep it open, Bly, but if you're noticing effects…”

Bly quickly signed a hard negative. He wouldn’t let anyone take the little piece of his general that lived in his head. Not even the general herself. “No. It’s still good. I just can’t center myself on you like before.”

General Secura relaxed. “Ah. That would be because we were too far apart. I am not powerful enough to bridge the gap between Concord Dawn and Coruscant. I will meditate during my visit and teach you how to use a different focus.” She turned into him. Her shoulders pressed firmly against his cuirass as she faced out towards the world with him covering her back. With every quiet, even breath she drew the soft, inhumanly smooth skin of her lekku rasped against the edge of his rough chin.

Bly rooted himself to the deck, reaching up to grasp one of the hanging loops to ensure he’d be rock steady even in the roughest skys. His other arm went around his general so that his vambrace covered as much of her unprotected stomach as he could manage. She fit up against him perfectly like no time had passed at all. He could feel the edges of her blending into him, infusing his thoughts and plans with her own intentions. She was weary. She wished to sleep buoyed to easy dreams by quiet, familiar minds. After a bath though with real water. Sonics were never as good since she had to use low power to keep from irritating her lekku.

“Understood, sir,” Bly said though General Secura had been silent the whole time.

Galle looked over expectantly. He was familiar with their general’s way of communicating through Bly when she was tired. “Sir?”

“Have them turn on the filter pumps for the baths and sterilize the steam room,” Bly ordered. He knew what his boys got up to in the natural hot springs they’d converted into communal baths. “The general will be using the facilities when we arrive.”

“Yes, sir.” Galle got on the comms to warn the brothers they’d left on base to scrub the black, volcanic rock until it glittered. General Secura was home, and everything needed to be up to standards or Bly would know why.

The 327th had built their base into the coastal cliffs of the southern continent. It was beautiful, scenic, and had multiple access points from land, sea, and air. The most obvious of which were rigged with lethal booby traps for anyone who didn’t have the proper access codes. The lingering geothermal activity from the ancient volcano which had made the cliffs kept the base between thirty and thirty-five degrees Celsius depending on how close to the hot springs you were. It was hot for humans, warm for clones, and perfect for a twi’lek born in the heat of Ryloth’s equatorial jungle. 

Slingshot, their pilot, swung wide around the base to make sure General Secura had a chance to appreciate the view. Then he brought the repurposed LAART/i into the main hanger which overlooked the water. As they came to land, Bly could see the troops lined up for inspection.

What remained of the 327th waited eagerly for their general. Most had left their armor in their quarters since it was too hot to wear around the base. Instead they wore the 327th’s new uniform of lower blacks, light duty boots, and simple, sleeveless tops made from upper blacks or gray softshell tunics cut apart and reassembled. Many of the men had cropped their shirts to mid-stomach and wore leatheris or canvas cords wrapped decoratively around their arms, echoing the general’s combat attire from the war. Some still wore their vambraces while others had exchanged armor for a simple wrist-mounted comm unit.

“General on deck!” Keys, acting as the officer on post barked. There was a near instantaneous thud of boots as the 327th all came to attention and saluted.

General Secura smiled brilliantly enough to blind as she looked over their men. “At ease, gentlemen,” she said, projecting her voice to be heard in the furthest corners of the hanger. After the company had slid into the ‘at ease’ position she continued, “It is good to see you. I have missed all of you more than you know. I will rest tonight. Tomorrow I will be available to visit with everyone.”

It was nearly identical to the speech General Secura would give after coming back from one of her ‘secret, Jedi only’ missions with her old master. There was relief in the familiarity. Keys didn’t even have to give the order for the men to salute and fall out, back to whatever tasks they were doing before. “Commander, if you please.” General Secura gestured for him to take her to the baths. “Just bring yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” Bly waved off Galle, Osk, and Tremble who would usually accompany them as the general’s bodyguards. He was confident in the base’s security. Their presence was just a formality.

There was a ripple through the crowd as brothers dodged out of the way around something that couldn’t be seen. Bly knew what was coming and steeped in front of the general. “ _ Ba’vodu! _ ” Numa bellowed, leading a pack of twi’lek, togruta, zeltron, and human-hybrid children along with a few of the last tubies to be gestated on Kamino. “You’re late!”

Bly sighed and pulled off his bucket. “‘Ten-shun!” he barked. The cadets slid to a halt in front of him in ragged order. “Who authorized you to enter the hanger?” he demanded. The 327th’s younglings weren’t allowed into security areas until they were at least whiteback age. Numa was almost there but most were still so young their blue tunics were too big.

“I asked the deck officer’s permission,” Numa protested. “He said we should come say hello to the general!”

Bly made a mental note to find out who the deck officer was for the shift and chew the wannabe-joker out. “Very well. General Secura, may I present the three-two-seven’s cadet corp.”

“It’s very nice to meet you all.” General Secura’s dark eyes were wide with surprise. “Do you live here?”

“No we live Uptop,” one of the young zeltrons said cheerfully. “But we just got out of flash-training.”

General Secura stiffened. Hastily Bly explained, “We don’t flash’em anymore, general. Medics said it was bad for their heads. We got our hands on the Republic standard education modules and supplement with weapons training, tactics, physical training, and technical rotations.” The cadets weren’t ready for combat as quickly with the new training regime, but none of them cried themselves to sleep from the flash headaches. It also meant Bly had an excuse to wait until they were full-grown before putting them into mission rotations.

“Oh.” General Secura stopped glaring to look over the sloppily ordered horde. Bly would speak to their training officer, again. Just because the cadets were technically off-duty didn’t mean they should be running wild like  _ civilians _ . “Bly,” his general said after a long moment of staring while Numa stared back, “where did they come from?”

“Some of the  _ Vode _ have been taking work on the outer rim. Mostly bounty hunting. A few came back with  _ riduure _ . Or just people who wanted out of a bad situation. The three-two-seven ended up with a lot of them. We already had Numa. Most of the unbonded ones had similar dietary and environmental needs so it made sense they’d stay with us. We built them an agricultural complex up on top of the cliffs for housing. Uptop.” Bly shut his mouth realizing he was babbling.

The first time a  _ vod  _ had come back from his bounty hunting gig with a pregnant twi’lek, who’s slave collar had been jury-rigged with a powerpack to keep it from exploding, no one had known what to do. The  _ Vode An _ had only been on Concord Dawn for a month, and Cody had been running things like a military campaign rather than a government. The 327th had already agreed to raise Numa alongside their cadets as their hydroponics setup was the only one, besides the 212th’s, that included vital nutritional components for twi’leks. So Bly had volunteered to take on the woman as a civilian aid. He’d ordered a prefab set up for the newest member of their company up top, away from the barracks, to give her some space from the men. She’d been the first. Now the 327th had a small village above them, and a pack of nippers who called them all ‘uncle’.

His general was grinning at him. “Bly, did you accidentally adopt all the dancing girls your brothers brought home?”

“They’re not girls, sir. You told me not to call them that.” Bly blinked as General Secura let out one of her loud, resonating belly laughs. “Sir?”

“I don’t live Uptop,” Numa protested, bored of the adults’ conversation now that she’d stared her fill at the general. “I live with in the barracks with the other  _ ad’ike _ .”

“Numa belongs to the two-twelfth,” Bly agreed quickly. He gestured at the orange-yellow ribbons wound around her lekku. “She’s staying with us until she’s older. Her brother is one of the  _ echoyiise _ . He’s not well enough to take care of her full-time.”

“Commander Cody says I can go live with  _ nerra _ when I can run eight kliks in full kit,” Numa said cheerfully. “Until then I can visit whenever I want as long as I get all my training done.”

General Secura nodded. “This is good. It is good that your brother and Commander Cody take your education so seriously.” She sighed ruefully. “And it explains a great deal.” Bly’s inquisitive look was waved off for the moment. “You are a credit to your uncles. All of you.”

Thank the Force, all the cadets snapped off perfect salutes to his general. “Thank you, sir!” they chimed together.

General Secura carefully concealed her flinch. “Force be with you, younglings,” she said bowing to them.

Since none of them had worked with his general before, Bly added, “Cadets, dismissed!” The horde scattered with yelps of joy. Numa hugged Bly quickly around the waist before running after her brothers.

“They seem happy,” his general observed. She rested her temple against Bly’s pauldron, a little melancholy. “You’ve done well with them.”

Bly wasn’t expecting praise. His cheeks burned as he looked down at the floor. “We do the best we can.” Softly he added, “The ones like Numa would do even better if they had an officer like you to emulate, sir.” General Secura didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has so very definitely not been betaed. What's the phrase? 'No beta we die like men'.

Cody was gone. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to break something. It wasn’t helpful and would only upset his men. Instead he paced through the hallways brushing gently, mental fingers over each bright presence as he stalked passed their rooms. Their glow soothed the perpetual chill which came from deep in his chest. The void Sidious had torn into him wouldn’t heal, but it’d stopped spreading after he’d managed to tie himself to the 212th.

A door slid open, a flicker of light a little brighter than the others since the  _ vod _ was awake. “Sir,” Longshot said sleepily. The young man, and he was one of the shiniest in the company, part of the last batch of Kaminoan speedies who aged at four times the rate of a standard human, wasn’t the original Longshot who Obi-Wan had lost at the Citadel. No one had had the heart to tell the brilliant young rifleman he couldn’t name himself after his dead brother. Especially when he did such honor to the designation.

“You should be asleep, my dear,” Obi-Wan said fondly moving over to brush the shaggy, blue streaked hair out of his eyes.

Longshot leaned down with a happy sigh. “I was. Then I heard you, general. Waiting on the commander?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “You know me too well. His presence changes this place. Without him I feel…”

“Nervous. Like someone might be asleep on watch,” Longshot said in agreement. “Yes, sir. We all feel it.” Tentatively, Longshot slid his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, resting his hands at the small of his back. “I have some holodramas, sir, if you want a distraction? We can put some blankets on the floor and watch until we fall asleep.” A lovely flush rose in the young trooper’s cheeks as one hand slid lower to rub at the bottom of Obi-Wan’s tailbone. “Or I can distract you another way, general. Only if you’d like.”

Obi-Wan had been careful around their last batch of new troopers. The grossly accelerated aging made them both too old and too young all once. He’d turned to his veteran troopers for his more physical needs. However, the boys were no longer boys but young men. With the application of the gene fix that normalized their aging, they’d begun to think and act like young men as well, including testing the boundaries of their old prohibitions. Cody had permitted them to proposition Obi-Wan, but none had yet been brave enough to approach him.

“Longshot.” Obi-Wan cradled the young man’s face between his hands. “If it’s release you’re looking for I'd be happy to lend a hand or a mouth.” He smiled at the shiver the idea drew. “You know what I do with the officers is… a little more.”

“I know, sir. I’ve done things before with Dice, my batcher. So I know the difference. The commander made sure we knew the rules too.” Longshot continued to massage Obi-Wan’s tailbone, a finger occasionally slipping just a little too low. “I know I can’t do anything fancy, not without waking up Tranq and getting my ass kicked. But distraction doesn’t need to be fancy.”

Obi-Wan arched his back just slightly as Longshot’s finger rubbed between his cheeks through the soft cotton of his pants. “No it doesn’t. I will need to know what you’re planning ahead of time, my dear. We haven’t yet spent enough time together for an... open spar.”

Longshot’s blush brightened to red travelling down his neck and to the tips of his ears. He soldiered on despite his embarrassment. “I was thinking I could hold you down and suck you until you came, then roll you over and fuck you until you came again?” He had the sweetest eyes, dark and liquid and filled with absolute trust. Obi-Wan needed to be fucked out of his own head before he did something he’d regret.

“Make the first part hold me down and fuck my mouth and that sounds positively lovely, my dear. I’m not up for twice tonight. Shall we?” Obi-Wan let himself be pulled into Longshot’s room. Like most of the  _ Vode _ , he didn’t live alone. There was a second bed with footlocker and desk opposite the one Longshot tugged him towards. However, the roommate’s bed was still made with sharp corners and no trace of of him in the Force.

Following Obi-Wan’s gaze, Longshot grinned. “Dice has a girl in the three-two-seven. Room’s ours, sir. You can be as loud as you want.”

Obi-Wan ran his fingers through Longshot’s shaggy locks, admiring the streaks of vivid blue. “I’m looking forward to having you all to myself.” He dragged Longshot’s mouth down to meet his. 

Longshot kissed so sweetly it was obvious he’d only ever kissed his batchemates. Obi-Wan would appreciate that tenderness in about half an hour or so. Until then… He brushed up against Longshot’s mind in question. Longshot nervously pushed back in acquiescence. Obi-Wan carefully unspooled a thread of the black corruption laced through his core like razor wire and let it sink into the young sharpshooter. There was a sharp snap that left him lightheaded as the oppressive darkness became a little less weighty. 

The kiss became more demanding. Longshot’s soft lipping at his mouth turned into gentle bites. He scraped his teeth across Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, snaking a hand up to clench in the hair at the base of Obi-Wan’s neck. When Obi-Wan tried to pull back to catch his breath, Longshot bit down hard on his mouth. He growled, “No. I’m not done yet,  _ mhi’jetii _ .” Obi-Wan gasped as his mouth was crushed to Longshot’s. A hot, insistent tongue forced its way into his mouth. Longshot jerked the hand in Obi-Wan’s hair in a silent demand he unclench his jaw.

Obi-Wan complied, shivering at the slick, hard drag of Longshot’s tongue over his teeth. He inhaled harshly through his nose since Longshot seemed more interested in trying to fuck his tongue down Obi-Wan’s throat than whether or not Obi-Wan could breathe. With a final, reluctant nip to Obi-Wan’s sore lower lip, Longshot pulled back. “No doing much for you, sir?”

“No. Perhaps you might find another use for my mouth?” Obi-Wan suggested breathlessly.

Longshot gave a beatific smile. He released Obi-Wan’s hair and took a step back. Then Obi-Wan yelped as Longshot picked him up. There was a flash of a shadow image, a desire Longshot suppressed. He wanted to throw Obi-Wan to the ground and pin him there. Preferably with other  _ vode _ to help hold him in place while Longshot touched him and kissed him, maybe bit a little. No twisting up their  _ jetii _ until he looked like he was in pain like Tranq enjoyed. Just hands and mouth everywhere but where Obi-Wan wanted until he was crying.

“When Kote returns,” Obi-Wan promised Longshot. He gasped as he was dumped back onto Longshot’s bed with only enough care to make sure he didn’t hit his head. The bed was a bunk, only slightly wider than the ones on the Negotiator. Obi-Wan heels dragged on the floor as Longshot manhandled him into place, stuffing the thin pillow behind Obi-wan’s neck to prop his head up against the wall.

Rifle calloused hands gripped Obi-Wan’s wrists and yanked his hands up over his head. “Keep them against the wall or under the pillow please, sir,” Longshot ordered before peeling off his lower blacks. He climbed up onto the pallet, swinging a leg over so he was straddling Obi-Wan’s chest and sliding forward until his knees were snug under Obi-Wan’s arms to pin the Jedi in place.

Obi-Wan started to protest as Longshot shifted him around so his mouth was at the perfect height for the tip of Longshot’s lovely, long cock to nearly brush his lips. The angle of Obi-Wan’s head meant he wouldn’t be able to take Longshot very deep.

Longshot quieted him with two fingers pushed into his open mouth. “I’ve got a hand, sir. And you already sound like you’ve been gargling rocks.” He rubbed the rough pads of his fingers against Obi-Wan’s tongue. Obi-Wan bore down with his teeth just slightly to a delighted hiss. “You do that to my deece and I’ll go wake up Tranq, general.” Longshot smiled a flash of brilliant, white teeth. “He can kick my ass before he paddles yours. Then I can use some of the hot chile oil from the mess to make sure your pretty, pink ass is too sore to sit on until the commander gets back.” He slowly withdrew his fingers when Obi-Wan delicately released them, smearing spit across Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“You've been talking to Trapper,” Obi-Wan noted tucking his hands under the pillow to brace his head.

“I don’t think I could stand watching what he does to you,” Longshot admitted as he used his dry hand to comb Obi-Wan’s hair out of the way. “But some of his ideas sound fun.” Something dark pressed at the edges of the words, a possessive desire to see Obi-Wan squirm just for him. To know that any pain or pleasure was his decision alone. “If you’re good, I’ll fuck you nice and hard with a hand on your deece. No messing around.”

Obi-Wan licked his lips making sure to be generous with the saliva. “I can be good.”

Longshot put his hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth, rubbing his palm slightly against Obi-Wan’s now slick lips to feel the change in sensation. “I know you can. Now get my hand wet, general. I hate a dry fuck.”

Lapping at Longshot’s palm Obi-Wan let his eyes slip shut and relaxed into the fingers tracing his cheekbones and down his nose. The troopers were culturally gregarious and it carried over into bed. If there was an opportunity to touch they would. Obi-Wan smiled behind Longshot’s hand as a thumb stroked gently across the thin skin beneath Obi-Wan’s eye.

Despite his inexperience, Longshot was a tender lover. He used Obi-Wan’s mouth carefully but which part of that was cautious inexperience and what part was preference only time would tell. Obi-Wan would have preferred it a little harsher, but there was something meditative about not being able to move while Longshot rocked slowly only letting his cock slip a few inches into Obi-Wan’s mouth before pulling back. He liked to rub the head against Obi-Wan’s lips, smearing spit everywhere, between thrusts.

Calloused knuckles brushed against Obi-Wan’s chin as Longshot shifted from fisting himself to stroking. “Open your mouth and keep it open,” he ordered with only a hint of bright, acrid embarrassment. Obi-Wan shivered a bit theatrically, opening his eyes very wide as he parted his lips. Then he shut his eyes as all of the muscles in Longshot’s chest and shoulders clenched into sharp relief. Warmth splattered across his nose and dribbled down his cheeks. At least none got near his eyes.

Longshot muffled a hysterical giggle against the back of his free hand as he squeezed the base of his twitching cock. He was smiling when he pulled it away. “Sorry, sir. You just look really pretty underneath me.”

A warm, luxurious wave of greedy affection flooded through Obi-Wan with the words. “No need for an apology, dear one,” he murmured, catching himself just before he slurred. “I’m a bit worked up myself.” He shifted his hips and legs in a nexu-like curl so Longshot could feel exactly how much Obi-Wan was enjoying himself. “Best take the edge off now so we can enjoy ourselves for longer later.”

Longshot slid over so he was lying alongside Obi-Wan. He pressed his naked body against Obi-Wan’s clothed one without a hint of self-consciousness. “I have some wipes if you want,” he offered as he caught a drip on his thumb before it could run onto Obi-Wan’s shirt.

“If you don’t mind.”

Longshot turned and reached into the storage space under his bed, re-emerging with a silver packet of the sanitary wipes the troopers used in the field. He took one out and used it to clean Obi-Wan’s face leaving behind only the faint, cold sting of the antiseptic.

With a pleased hum, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and luxuriated in the tug and burn low down inside him as the only contact his hard cock received was a brush of worn soft fabric while Longshot settled next to him again. A thick, heavy arm, muscled in the same way as Cody’s, settled across Obi-Wan’s chest. It was followed by a hot mouth on Obi-Wan’s neck, but Longshot didn’t bite down before he started kissing like Cody did. It was a reminder Obi-Wan needed. Both snipers had similar builds, but they were very different men.

Obi-Wan turned enough he could slid a hand into Longshot’s hair and cradle that precious head against his neck. The kisses were light. Just lips to skin with no pressure or suction. It was a beautiful tease that had Obi-Wan’s hips hitching against empty air since Longshot had strategically arranged his powerful thighs just out of reach.

“Can I fuck you in your tunics?” Longshot asked with just a brush of his teeth against Obi-Wan’s frustratingly bare and sensitive jaw. Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of himself on his knees in full Jedi robes with a white armored body behind him. The edges of the image were faded with age and the concept itself was fuzzy, an old fantasy that pre-dated Order 66.

“Yes. And next time I’ll dig up my tabards. Just for you, my dear.” Obi-Wan yipped as he got a sharp bit on the chin in reprimand for his cheek. It was followed by a sweet, lingering kiss on his mouth.

Longshot pulled back a little hesitantly. “Sir,” he said softly, “do you know my name?”

Obi-wan blinked. “Why, you’re Longshot. From Crys’ recon squads.” Longshot relaxed letting his forehead rest against Obi-Wan’s. “Did you think I didn't know?”

“You just never said it,” Longshot admitted. “I… You seem to know everyone else’s. But we were still shinies until Coruscant.”

“Longshot, I know the name of every trooper in the two-twelfth. You are my brothers, my family, first and foremost.” Obi-Wan turned to fully embrace the young man. “If I haven’t said your name, dearest Longshot, it's because you are you and some part of me still thinks of another man when I say it. That’s all.”

Longshot nodded in understanding. Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one who had a certain reaction to some of the reused names. “That… Makes sense. Thank you, sir. And sorry.”

“My dear, only one of us is psychic, and you may apply to Commander Cody for his opinion on that,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Never apologize for asking. You and your brothers’ safety and happiness are the most important things in the galaxy to me.” He pressed a gentle kiss over to each fluttering eyelid. “I would be lost without you.”

“You’re our general, sir. My general.” Longshot gently pushed Obi-Wan bracing himself on his elbow as he leaned over him. “My general,” Longshot repeated with a tinge of avarice before kissing Obi-Wan again.

Obi-Wan let himself be born back into that warm, soft place between Longshot’s body and the mattress on the rising tide of lust. He was rolled over and his hands guided to hold the edges of the mattress as he lay on his stomach. Longshot eased his leggings down to mid-thigh murmuring sympathetically when he saw the tooth marks Tranq had left in the tender flesh of Obi-Wan’s inner thighs. “You’re still slick,” he said in wonderment as he rubbed a finger across Obi-Wan’s still tender hole. “Bacta?”

“Tranq,” Obi-Wan said into Longshot’s pillow since no more explanation was needed.

There was a crack. The pungent smell of swamp and fermenting fruit filled the room. “Well, the lieutenant always says not to argue with the medic.” Three fingers slick with fresh bacta eased inside Obi-Wan, twisting to make sure he was thoroughly coated. It tingled making Obi-Wan raise his hips uncertain whether he wanted to move into the sensation or away from it.

Longshot decided for him lifting his hips and wedging the roll of a spare blanket beneath Obi-Wan. Then a wonderfully heavy body settled over him. Calloused fingers closed around Obi-Wan’s aching cock. When he jerked in response he felt the sticky drag of durarubber across his asscheek. Longshot was wearing a condom. “So there’s less mess,” Longshot murmured into Obi-Wan’s ear before dragging his teeth along the edge of the shell. “Faster to get to sleep.”

Eminently practical and such a  _ Vode _ thought. Obi-Wan was about to tease him for it when he was impaled in a long, smooth glide which made him cry out. He was still so sensitive from Tranq and Crys working him over after midmeal. Longshot buried himself to the hilt before stilling. He stroked Obi-Wan’s cock slowly waiting for Obi-Wan to catch his breath.

“Please move,” Obi-Wan gasped, bucking his hips back after several minutes.

“Yes, sir,” Longshot replied cheerfully. He fucked like a machine, slow, steady, and consistent. His hand working Obi-Wan’s cock in time with his thrusts. Exactly the no nonsense fucking he’d promised as a reward for good behavior. The simmering heat didn’t so much rise as it was ratcheted along by Longshot’s implacable pace. Obi-Wan held off for as long as he could. The burn and occasionally sting of overuse keeping the bubbling pleasure at bay.

Then Longshot pushed himself further up Obi-Wan’s body. His reliable pace interrupted by several quick, punching thrusts before he got control of himself. “Please let me come,” Obi-Wan said, not quite begging. “Please, Longshot. I’ve been good.” He bit off a whine as the noise made Longshot growl.

The hand on his cock sped up as Longshot thrust deep and started grinding. “I can feel it, general,” Longshot said through gritted teeth. “I’m almost there. Keep that ass up.”

Obi-Wan pushed his ass up into Longshot moaning, white filling his vision. Longshot snarled as he finished, dragging Obi-Wan along in the rush of heat and hormonal high. Then Longshot was cursing, cupping a hand around the head of Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan hissed since the contact was a bit much after everything. “I forgot to put down a towel!” Longshot groaned wretchedly before laughing into Obi-Wan’s hair.

Obi-Wan was laughing too. He brought his hands down trying to get his leggings or tunic in place to help contain the mess. However it was a lost cause. The sheets and blankets would have to be washed.

“Fuck it,” Longshot decided. He knelt up with one hand at the base of the condom to keep things from getting more sticky. “If we wipe down we can sleep in Dice’s bunk. He won’t mind.”

“Good plan,” Obi-Wan, who could feel cool, calm, black exhaustion rolling in like a tidal wave, agreed. “Hand me some wipes.”

Longshot stripped Obi-Wan to his skin before cleaning him with gentle hands. Then they both rolled into Dice’s bunk together with Obi-Wan plastered along Longshot’s back. Longshot held one of Obi-Wan’s hands to his chest after pulling a blanket over them both. Obi-Wan fell asleep to the brush of butterfly kisses across his knuckles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for Bly being Aayla's courtly love (but sexy). This didn't turn out exactly like I hoped, but I want to be done with it. This was betaed by me after not sleeping again. I'm sorry.

Bly and his general made it to the baths without any more distractions. The rest of his brothers had followed orders. The locker room was empty and smelled only astringent disinfectant and the sweet, green flowers used as cologne by the  _ vode _ making a personal trip to Uptop. Bly opened one of the lockers and began the process of stripping out of his armor and blacks.

His general opened the locker next to him and set her belt, with the lightsaber attached, inside. Bly hurriedly stacked his plates in a neat pile and skimmed out of his blacks. By then General Secura was unbuckling her top. He stepped behind her, helping her remove the two pieces and folded them neatly before setting them on top of her other clothes. Then he waited for permission.

“Bly, if you wouldn’t mind.” General Secura bent her head to give him better access to the buckle at the base of her skull which held the primary band of her lekku harness in place.

Bly made himself breathe deeply. His hands were trembling every so slightly as he slowly brought them up to rest on her shoulders. He stroked his thumbs over the smooth, nearly poreless blue skin which covered the stiff trapezius muscles on either side of her delicate neck. His general shuddered. Her chin dropped lower as he dug his thumbs into the knots where neck met shoulder drawing just a hint of sapphire flush to the surface.

Carefully, he worked his hands from her shoulders up her neck. He massaged with careful fingertips over fragile areas of nerve clusters and bone and dug with his thumbs into knotted tendon and muscle. When his knuckles brushed the durasteel buckle he slid two fingers underneath it to keep it from digging in when he undid it. 

Smoothing his palms around the curve of her skull beneath her lekku he loosened the heavy, tight leatheris that protected the vulnerable base of her lekku and soft tissue of her cones. General Secura let out a small, pleased sigh. Only audible because they were alone. With the band loosened, he could reach the covered hooks and rings that held the straps wound around her lekku taut.

He unhooked the end of one of the straps and carefully unwrapped the first lekk, winding the loose end of the strap around his palm as he went to make a neat bundle. The supple, well-oiled leatheris slid smoothly over his calluses, just cool to the touch. Clones ran hotter than twi’leks. He attached the bundled strap to the side of the primary band then repeated the process for the other lekk careful not to hurry.

“Stretch them out for me,” his general ordered voice throaty and a little hoarse when both her lekku were unwrapped. Obediently, Bly cupped his hands under each lekku lifting up until they hung over his shoulders on either side. A feathery tingle made him grit his teeth slightly as the tips of her lekku brushed over the skin of his back as they wiggled happily.

With her lekku supported, he had a clear view as he finished removing the lekku harness from her cones and lifting it off her forehead. She reached up and took the pile of leathris bands from him to store it. He took the opportunity to use the tips of his fingers to rub small circles around the base of her lekku. She let out a pleased hum at the contact.

“You said something about a hot spring?” she said after a few minutes of relaxing back into his chest and letting him rub away the tension of a long journey to an uncertain destination.

“This way, sir.” Bly ignored the way his cock twitched when it brushed against the smooth, cool skin of his general’s hip. He’d never felt the urgency so many of his brothers did to rut into a warm, willing body. It took a certain mood for him to feel the urge to bother with more than his own hand.

Bly took General Secura to the open bay of showers to rinse off before going into the pools. She rolled her eyes but let him dig out the bottles of fancy cleanser they kept for when the people of Uptop came down to use the baths. The dispensers on the wall held the harsh, GAR issue cleanser which they had tanks of thanks to one stolen transport. Bly still remembered the way the general had winced when he’d smoothed medicated cream across the raw, green, blistered patches it left in the crooks of her elbows.

His general must have missed him. She was especially indulgent, letting him wash her himself. She didn’t even sigh at him when he knelt down to clean her feet by setting them against his thigh one at a time to get between her fine-boned toes.

“Bly,” she said, stopping him when he reached for the dispenser to scrub himself. “May I?” She picked up the bottle of cleanser. Her other hand stroked down his arm.

Bly nodded hoping the heat of the water concealed his blush. “If you’d like, general.” He stood with his feet spread as she lathered up some cleanser between her. She chuckled when she saw his pose, what she called ‘manner legs’, which brought him down closer to her height. “Thank you, Bly.” Her fingers ran cleanser through his hair before her blunt nails dragged pleasantly across his scalp to rub it in.

Bly shivered, closing his eyes as hygiene turned into affectionate scritches. All clones kept their nails short to keep from interfering with their armored gauntlets or leatheris uniform gloves. His general’s nails weren’t as fancy as some Bly had seen in Uptop, but they were the perfect length to make his scalp tingle.

“Some things don’t change,” she remarked moving down to scratch lightly at his stubble. “You didn’t shave for me.”

There was no point in denying it. “I wanted to look like you prefer, sir. I almost put some kohl around my eyes, but I didn’t want to deal with Cody and Fox if I had to take my bucket off in front of them.”

She hummed brushing her own thumbs across the tattoos on his cheekbones. “I’ll apply it for you after our bath. Nobody here but our own.”

It made something warm and liquid pool in Bly’s stomach to think of it. The base was secure. Uptop as well. There was nobody in three hundred kliks that wasn’t 327th or their people, and General Secura was finally home.

She gave a husky chuckle catching the edge of his thoughts. “Oh my Bly.” Her hands ran over his body, cleaning and checking for new injuries in the same motion. The familiar roughness of lightsaber callouses had him sighing and leaning into every touch. There was the slightest swoop of nerves when she wiped a desultory hand over his cock, but, as always, she never treated it any differently than his elbows or calves. The same when she rubbed a thumb across his hole. It made his guts unclench to be reminded that he was hers, blood, body, and soul. She could touch any part of him.

“Much better.” The general held out a hand expectantly. Bly put a hand against the wall to balance himself and lifted a foot for her to examine. She didn’t kneel anymore knowing he found the sight as anxiety inducing as him kneeling for her was soothing.

When Bly had been shipped off Kamino, his mind hastily reassembled by Alpha-17 after years of dealing with Isabet Reau, he hadn’t been able to think much beyond keeping his brothers alive and killing everything between him and his objective. General Secura had made a person out of the mess of ‘commander’ with hours of meditation and a gentle touch. She never asked for anything in return so it felt right to go to his knees and swear himself to her like a commando to the  _ Mand’alor _ in one of Fett’s stories.

“Come back to me, Bly.” His general was stroking his cheek when he focused on her eyes. “I thought you said Cody understood,” she said with just a touch of concern.

“Cody’s general’s in a bad way, sir. He didn’t need the distraction. I’ve spent some time with Rex and Wolffe.” But it wasn’t quite the same. Cody understood in a way they didn’t. Before Fett and Alpha-17 had pulled him for experimental officer training, Cody had been assigned to Dred Priest.

The general pursed her lips but nodded in acceptance of his explanation. “Shall we soak now?” she offered.

Bly obediently took the hand she extended to him. He led her into the baths proper. The cavern the hot spring had been found in was about the size of the hanger bay in a Jedi Cruiser. Originally there had been one, large, shallow pool taking up about a quarter of the cavern. They’d cut baths of different sizes directly into the black stone of the floor. Pipes ran along one wall carrying the naturally boiling water to the different pools while a second set of pipes emerged from the pump boxes at the side of each bath to carry away water too dirty to be recirculated.

The air was hot, humid, and smelled vaguely sulphurous from the spring. Bly led his general from the spring towards the transparisteel window overlooking the blue-green ocean below that capped the original cavern entrance. There were hose stations with cool water that could be added to the bathes to adjust the temperature, but the water lost heat travelling through the pipes until the bathes on the end were only blood warm. General Secura’s cooler core temperature would make the near scalding bathes the  _ Vode _ favored painful.

Someone had thoughtfully left several of the mid-range bathes full with the pumps churning quietly, including the one Bly wanted. It was one of the small baths intended for  _ riduure _ who wanted a bit of privacy with a beautiful cloth screen, woven in Uptop, providing a modicum of privacy from the rest of the room. He helped his general down the step cut into the side of the bath.

The general groaned, sinking down fully into the pool of steaming water until it hit her chin. “This is wonderful, Bly.”

“It gets better,” Bly promised, checking the durasteel container at the edge of the bath. He pulled out the Ryloth-style headrest and the kit he stashed there before he’d flown out to the city. The water only came up to mid-thigh on him when he was standing. He shivered in the cooler air of the cavern as he walked over and set up the headrest behind his general so she could lean back back without worrying about crushing her lekku against the side of the bath.

When she was settled, he returned to the crate and opened his kit. There was a small sanitizer box which held his manicure tools, a selection of oils and liniments for sore muscles, and baggies of salt and herb mixtures that were supposed to be good for the skin. The kit was smaller than it had been when he could take the credits his general slipped him and buy himself something nice.

He chose a blend of dark colored salts and  _ behot _ . “That smells wonderful.” General Secura raised a hand out of the water to order him back to her.

Bly lowered himself into the water sliding over to her. His general had parted her elegant, powerful legs so he could lay between them. With a sigh of pure pleasure, he laid on his belly along her torso with his cheek cradled against her breast. One of her hands twined with his, raising it from the water so she could examine it. “Who’s been doing your nails?” she asked with a touch of amusement.”

“Galle. I do his,” Bly said without opening his eyes. The water was closer to lukewarm than hot, but his general’s body was under him. Her skin was pressed up against his the same color as the tattooed cuffs around his biceps.

After a bit, his general shifted, clearing her throat. “My Bly?” he hummed in response. “May I use your thigh?”

Bly nodded eagerly resisting the urge to manhandle her into position. His general had asked permission to use his hand or mouth or even his cock (when he’d been in the mood) for her own pleasure in the past. It was something she only ever asked of Bly since her other lovers were Jedi, who wouldn’t consider something so selfish appropriate. “Yes, sir. Would you like my hand as well?”

“No. I’ll take care of it,” she said carding her fingers through his hair. “You’ll need to move.”

Bly rolled off her spreading his legs and bending them slightly at the knee so she would know he didn't mind if she adjusted the angle. General Secura settled over him gracefully moving so the warm core of her could drag along his slick skin. She leaned down and kissed him. It was soft and a little sticky from the humidity. Bly felt the tug on a chapped part of his lip when she pulled back. She made a quiet little noise of happiness. Her lekku, usually trapped in their harness, wiggled talkatively.

Bly gently lifted  _ tchun _ over his general’s shoulder so it could curl around his wrist. General Secura’s lekku got grabby when she was happy. He leaned up and pressed a fond kiss to the still gesturing tip. “Oh,” she breathed. Her hands rested on her shoulder to give her leverage as she started to move, dragging herself along his thigh. “Keep doing that, please.”

Bly took the permission and let himself trail kisses from  _ tchun _ to her neck. He lingered over the smooth curves of her breasts, alternating light kisses with rubbing his stubble face against them. It felt good to him though not in the same way it made electricity tingle through his general. The taste of ozone lingered on his tongue as she opened herself to him. He let out his own deep, chest-rattling moan as he felt the light of her seep into the cracks in his mind.

He rubbed his stubbled cheeks against the soft skin of her breasts since kissing required more coordination than he had. General Secura rocked against him, the slickness thicker than water on his skin, the pressure around his wrist. She reached up and curled her fingers around the base of his throat in an affectionate squeeze. Then they were flying.

Bly could feel their men lingering near the door to the bathes hopefully. When General Secura groaned loudly enough to be heard their happiness burst like bubbles in the sweet fizzy wine at 79s. Their general and their commander were together. All was right in the world.

Beyond the men, Bly could see bright, shaky points of light. Their younglings were scattered through the base and Uptop. There were fish in the sea. Livestock in the pens on the outskirts of Uptop. The land itself breathed with life. Holding it all together was her, his general, so content to be here with him, so trusting as she let herself go to pieces only in his arms.

Bly came to feeling his general shudder. Her knuckles dug into the meat of his thigh as she fingered herself through a second climax. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders to make sure she slumped forward onto his chest when she finished. “You are absolutely lovely,” General Secura informed him, pressing a kiss to his chin. As always, she cupped him gently to check if he’d spent. When she found him still hard, she asked “Did you enjoy it?” If Bly asked his general would take him in her hand or mouth until he finished, but he didn’t feel the need this time.

“Yes,” Bly said a little hoarse. His cheeks were damp with how good it felt to  _ know _ he was valued, and obedient, and good. It had been a long time since he’d been properly out his head. Not even Cody could give him this. If he had to live without it he could. He had since they’d come to Concord Dawn. But being with his general made him feel like he could do anything, steal the stars and fight an army single-handed like a warrior from a legend.

“I’m glad.”  _ Tchin _ writhed insistently until General Secura guided it to curl loosely against Bly’s neck. Bly rested with his cheek against the lekk just breathing in time with her. His general traced aimless patterns across his chest as the heat of the water soaked into them both. Neither of them had escaped the war without their fair share of scars. With the scars came aches that only ever eased, never healed.

Reluctantly, his general broke the comfortable silence. “Bly, you say Cody’s general is unwell. What do you mean?”

“I only know what happened when Cody first brought his general home,” Bly said with an apologetic kiss to her lekk. “After we left you at the temple, we headed straight for Concord Dawn. Bacara and I were coordinating with Alpha-Seventeen to begin the colonization process. Everyone else trickled in after that. The two-twelfth didn’t show up until a week after we stopped getting stragglers. When they did, General Kenobi was with them. They hand him in full binders and a Force suppression collar. Alpha-Seventeen took it off later that day. He thought it might be making things worse for the general because of Jabiim.”

Bly trailed off. Cody’s general was something like General Secura’s uncle. Her master was close friends with Kenobi. She’d known both men from the time she was a young child. Her lekk squeezed his wrist reassuringly. “General Kenobi attacked Alpha. The general never touched Alpha or threw anything at him, but Alpha was covered in bleeding cuts like someone took a knife to him. Cody had to hit his general to get him to stop. The two-twelfth took him straight to the most rural site we’d laid out as soon as the medics confirmed Alpha just needed some tank time. He hasn’t left since.”

“But you’ve seen him. Numa’s brother is in the two-twelfth,” General Secura noted shrewdly.

“I’ve seen him,” Bly agreed. “He’s stable enough or we would bring Boil here for visitation instead. But…” He felt embarrassed for his general having to hear this about her master’s best friend. “Kenobi’s off. He doesn’t talk as much and is volatile as a null. Wooley mentioned having sex seems to help. Last time I was there, the general seemed more aware, more like his old self, after coming out of Cody’s room. So maybe there’s some truth to it.”

General Secura hummed thoughtfully. “In some ways it makes sense. If Master Kenobi is using the bonds he shares with his troopers he could be bleeding off the darkness into them rather than letting concentrate in him.” Sensing Bly’s concern she hurriedly explained, “Small bits of darkness would be harmless to you and your brothers. There is a certain, natural amount of darkness all beings have. I don’t believe that Obi-Wan Kenobi would ever be far enough gone to harm the two-twelfth.”

Bly winced. “You want to see him.” It wasn’t a question. His general nodded waiting for an explanation of his discomfort. “I can ask Cody. He might agree since you’re General Vos’ old commander. He’s let Vos on his base before.”

“But he might not,” his general finished for him.

“You’re not his,” Bly offered awkwardly. “He puts up with me and our men on his base because we’re  _ Vode _ . But not always happily because he knows we’re yours. It’s not that he wouldn’t protect you if I asked. He just doesn’t like anybody who’s not two-twelfth around his general or the  _ echoyiise _ .”

His general nodded, sadness glinting her dark eyes. “I noticed the good commander is less welcoming than I remember. If it won’t cause problems, please ask if I could visit my teacher’s oldest friend. I will not push if Commander Cody refuses.”

Bly appreciated the phrasing of his general’s request. She didn’t ask for Master Kenobi or General Kenobi or the Negotiator. She’d asked to see the man who was her uncle in all the ways that mattered. Cody would think more charitably of a request to visit family.

“I’ll pass on your request. It may be a few days.” Bly gritted his teeth. The buzzing high of pleasing his general faded at the reminder she’d been gone before then.

“You still have my Delta-Seven?” General Secura settled her cheek on his shoulder when he nodded. “Then I have no need to take the shuttle back. If I am needed elsewhere I will use my fighter to get there.”

She was staying. Not forever. Bly and the 327th followed a Jedi. Her beliefs were no less a part of her than her soft skin and the hard muscle of her arms. They loved her because of her faith not in spite of it. If the Force called, she would answer and, hopefully, she’d let them help her. Until then, she would stay in the home Bly and his  _ vode _ had built for all of them.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

She clicked her tongue at him chidingly. “I missed you as well, my Bly. It will be good to learn my new home.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally something about what happened on Coruscant! If Mon doesn't seem as smooth here as she should be, I'm going to say it's because of lingering trauma around Palpatine's coup.

Mon Motha regretted not getting to know Commander Fox better during his time in the Senate. Padme had been whisked away from the group not long after the Jedi by an honor guard in blue armor. Riyo had identified them as members of the former 501st Legion. She’d identified troopers from a half-dozen other companies and legions as well along with smaller groups which were former special forces. Mon was ashamed she could only pick out a few members of the former Coruscant Guard, and even then she didn’t know them by name the way Riyo seemed to.

A trooper named Boomer from the 501st had attached himself to Riyo with the eerie ease all the clones seemed to display when they decided a being was part of their in-group. He chattered happily to Riyo about the various clones she’d befriended over the years. None of the clones, even Commander Fox himself, was particularly interested in Mon.

Commander Fox led them through the converted industrial complex silently. Mon wondered if she’d made a mistake not greeting him by name immediately after disembarking from the shuttle, but she’d been unsure if Commander Fox even knew her well enough a personal greeting would have been welcome. She’d been warned by Bail and some other colleagues who’d worked closely with the clones and the Jedi during the war that it was hard to predict what might offend a clone.

Bail had told Mon that clones had a culture distinct from that of both the Jedi and the Mandalorians though it contained elements of both. The only true non-clone experts on clone culture were Jedi, who were reluctant to discuss it with outsiders due to its inherently secretive nature. Much like Jedi culture, there were subcultures among the clones. Master Mundi had been willing to speak a little to the divisions since the men who he’d served with during the war had been distinctly culturally different from any other group of clones. However, Master Mundi’s description was still vague since cultural divisions seemed to spring from some combination of which unit a clone was assigned to, which Jedi officers they served with, which trainers they’d originally worked with on Kamino, where in the galaxy they were assigned, and even how old they were.

Master Secura and Master Koon were supposed to be aiding Mon and Riyo as cultural advisors. However, it seemed that was now unlikely. Which left Mon at a loss. Riyo was comfortable enough with Boomer, but Boomer was a mere sergeant. Though whether a clone’s previous rank was representative of their authority within their own government was something not even the Jedi knew.

“This is your suite, senators,” Commander Fox said abruptly, stopping in front of an unmarked door. “Dinner will be provided in your sitting room in two standard hours. You will have limited access to our intranet which includes various entertainment media as will as our public archives. There is an intercom next to the door. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to use it.”

“Are we to be restricted to our suites?” Mon asked, startled at the blatant hostility of such a demand.

Commander Fox remained impassive. “Concord Dawn is not a hospitable planet to outsiders. For your own safety and the safety of the facility personnel, we request that you remain in your suite.” He paused then added less mechanically, “You and Senator Chuchi will be sharing the suite, Senator Mothma. There are three bedrooms, but the  _ Vode _ aren’t comfortable being in a foreign environment alone. It was assumed you’d appreciate the same courtesy.”

“We do, Commander,” Riyo chimed in gracefully. “This facility is large enough I’d be hard pressed to ever find Senator Mothma again even if her room was just down the hall.”

Commander Fox seemed to relax slightly with Riyo’s response. “Mistress Naberrie is staying with the five-oh-first. She’ll meet you for breakfast tomorrow prior to the meeting.” He didn’t mention the Jedi at all, and Mon wasn’t inclined to ask since she’d already managed to accidentally offend the commander once.

“Thank you for escorting us, Commander Fox,” Mon said instead, careful to use the clone’s name.

The suite was very plain and very military. The furniture looked like it’d been pulled out of one of the Jedi cruisers and repurposed. Someone had left a bowl of brightly colored local fruit on a set of metal crates that had been welded together to create a low, caf table in the sitting area across from the holoproj setup. It looked sad to Mon like a poor attempt to copy something one of the clones had seen in the ambassadorial suites on Coruscant.

Riyo seemed comfortable enough despite her surroundings. She picked up a piece of fruit and started munching as her datapad synced with the rooms holoterminal. “Well, that could have gone better,” she said with that kindly, bland cheerfulness she’d perfected during the war.

“I’m sorry,” Mon groaned, sinking down into one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs. “I don’t know how my foot kept finding my mouth.”

“What about them makes you uncomfortable, Mon?” Riyo asked bluntly. “Is it the fact they’re soldiers or that they’re clones?”

Mon rubbed her eyes wearily. “I simply don’t know how to speak to them. They’re so warm with you and Padme as well as the Jedi. When Commander Fox looked at me, I half expected to be marched to a prison cell.”

Riyo sat on the couch across from Mon with a sigh. “It’s not completely your fault, Mon. You spent the war on Coruscant so no one besides the Guard knows you.” The way Riyo said ‘the Guard’ made it sound significant. During Palpatine’s coup, Riyo had been held with other non-human opposition senators at an off site location guarded by sympathetic clones who had minimized Palpatine’s petty cruelties as best they could. Those clones had been a repurposed military unit, though Mon couldn’t remember their designation, not the Coruscant Guard.

“Does this have something to do with the coup?” Mon asked because Riyo didn’t seem eager to elaborate.

Riyo put her fruit to the side and sighed. “Not exactly. I don’t know any details, but during my internment I often took meals with Commanders Bacara and Neyo along with Meena Tills, Swiett Concorkill, and Streamdrinker.” All non-human members of the Delegation of 2,000. “Commander Bacara was kind enough to answer some of our questions until he was reassigned. Prior to Palpatine’s coup, an ARC trooper in the five-oh-first legion discovered that he and his brother’s had slave chips in their brains. While investigating further, the trooper ended up on the wrong side of the Coruscant Guard and was nearly killed on Palpatine’s orders. Only the interference of Master Kenobi and Commander Cody saved the young man. Those slave chips were related to the ‘Order Sixty-Six’ phenomena. Though Commander Bacara didn’t wish to discuss specifics and I didn’t ask.”

“I see. So there’s some internal conflict among the clones because the Guard was ordered to suppress this information?” Mon asked. There had been no mention of slave chips in any of the reports she’d ever read.

Riyo grimaced. “I don’t know, Mon. I don’t even know if the chips were real or just a GAR rumor. Judicial never found any evidence of slave chips. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the troopers didn’t destroy all the evidence themselves. If there was a slave chip in some or all of them that could force them to obey Palpatine, they would do their best to conceal its existence to keep the Republic from attempting to use it to our advantage. It’s one of the reasons none of us at those dinners ever brought it up in open session.”

Mon couldn’t even argue. Too many of their fellow senators were still glutted on war and would demand the senate pursue any avenue to regain control of their lost army. Even if it was completely unconscionable. “And because I have only ever interacted with the Guard peripherally, I’m not considered a potential ally but a representative of a hostile government who still uses their identification numbers instead of their names.”

“It’s not just you. They’re all less friendly than I remember. If I hadn’t already had acquaintances among the troopers, I have no doubt I’d be facing the same suspicions.” Riyo pushed the bowl of fruit towards Mon.

“Why the hell didn’t you brief us on the shuttle,” Mon snapped. She caught herself taking a deep, calming breath.

Riyo pursed her lips. “I owe you an apology for that. But I honestly didn’t think it would be this bad. I met Commander Cody several times during the war. He was quiet compared to most of his brothers but not… Cold. If you had told me the man who met us this evening was General Kenobi’s commander, I would have wondered if you could tell the troopers apart.”

“He hasn’t changed much since I last saw him on Coruscant,” Mon admitted. “Palpatine liked to use the commander as one of his bodyguards. I watched him execute some of my friends.” Including one Mon’s longest serving aids.

Riyo didn’t seem shocked in the least. “Palpatine had a temple full of Jedi elders and children he could have wiped out in a single bombing pass. You never saw the troopers with their Jedi so you don’t understand. As long as Palpatine held the Jedi younglings, the troopers would have killed anyone except their brothers and their Jedi officers if Palpatine ordered it. Judicial assuming the troopers involved in Palaptine’s murder spree were enacting some kind of revenge was misguided and speciesist.”

Mon could understand why Riyo didn’t air that opinion too loudly. If she hadn’t seen for herself how the clones had swarmed Master Secura and Master Koon it would have been hard to believe. Riyo picked up another piece of fruit, turning between her hands. “If Master Kenobi is dead, it would explain a lot of things about the Commander Cody we’re dealing with now.”

The clones had taken Master Kenobi’s body with them when they left. Which had led more to one conspiracy about the Jedi still living. No one had been close enough to see more than six clones in gold and white plastoid shooting their former general after Commander Cody had executed Palpatine. No one had been sure whether or not the shots Master Kenobi had been hit with were stun bolts.

Mon wrapped her arms around herself instinctively. She’d witnessed Palptine’s death along with most of the human senators. Knight Skywalker, after months as Palpatine’s pet enforcer, had strode into the senate session with Master Kenobi, dressed in black tunics and face smeared with blood, at his side. They’d attacked Palpatine together, without a word, both wielding red-bladed lightsabers. At the same time, it seemed like every clone trooper in the galaxy had descended on Coruscant. The Guard had locked all the senators in their pods and offices for their protection. Over forty clones in gold, blue, or black armor had joined the fight on the side of Skywalker and Kenobi. Most of them had died after dispatching Palpatine’s red-cloaked bodyguards, cut down by Palpatine’s red-bladed lightsaber or the foul, purple lightning that had sprung from his hands. The ones left standing had jumped over their brother’s bodies to continue the attack.

The fight had ended suddenly. Palpatine had bisected Knight Skywalker at the waist. Master Kenobi had sliced off both of Palpatine’s hands before Skywalker had hit the floor. Commander Cody had put his pistol to the back of Palpatine’s head and pulled the trigger before Mon had even registered his intent.

“Mon,” Riyo said gently.

Mon blinked. Riyo was kneeling in front of her holding Mon’s hands in her own. “Do you know where you are?” she asked softly.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was remembering.” Mon retrieved her trembling hands and laced her fingers tightly together.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Riyo handed Mon a muja fruit. “Here. Eat something sweet. I’ll get us some water and we can see if there’s anything useful in the public archives.”

The archives were a decent, if mundane, distraction until latemeal was brought to them by a red-armored former Guard member. It took Mon a moment to recall his name, but she managed to get out “Thank you, Captain Stone.” before the pause became awkward.

Mon’s use of his name seemed to be perceived as an invitation. Stone returned only a few minutes later with Boomer, both with their own trays, to join them in eating. Just as Boomer had filled the time with news about clones Riyo knew, Stone had questions for Mon and Riyo about the senators who’d been his responsibility when he’d served in the GAR.

To Mon’s surprise, there wasn’t anything political about Stone’s interrogation. He was much more interested in knowing if his former charges had appropriate bodyguards and the status of their general health, spouses, and children. It made for pleasant, familiar small talk. Mon was feeling much more confident about her ability to speak to the clones by the time Boomer and Stone gathered up the dishes and bid them goodnight.

There was another pleasant surprise waiting for them in the form of a holocall request from Master Secura. When the foot high image of the twi’lek Jedi appeared above the room’s holoproj, there was a clone sitting with his back against her shins and his head tilted back to rest against her knees. The Jedi didn’t seem to be bothered in the least and combed her fingers through his hair as she greeted them. “Senators, I apologize for my sudden departure. My men were eager to see me again.”

“Understandable, Master Secura. It is good to hear from you. Will you be returning in time for the negotiations?” Mon kept the question light uncertain exactly who the clone in the holo was.

“I regret I will not. Master Koon has agreed to fly back in the morning to assist you. However, I will be remaining with the three-two-seven for an indeterminate length of time. I have already contacted the temple and notified them of my intentions. If negotiations reach an impasse, another master will be sent to assist you as the Force has chosen another path for me.” Master Secura squeezed the clone’s shoulder fondly. “Please do not be concerned for me, senators. My commander has the situation well in hand.”

Mon had to admit if Master Secura had been kidnapped she certainly seemed pleased about it. A closer examination of the blurry holoshadows around the Jedi suggested the clone at her feet was hardly the only one near her. Though Mon thought it was less a case of guards standing over a prisoner than akk pups huddling near their dame. “Thank you for letting us know, Master Secura,” Mon said politely. “May the Force be with you.”

“And also with you, senators.” The holoimage popped out of existence.

“What’s the probability we’re going to get a similar call from Master Koon?” Mon asked Riyo, dazed.

“Unlikely. As a Jedi Councilor, Master Koon doesn’t have the luxury of a sabbatical,” Riyo reassured her.

Mon nodded but couldn’t shake her returned sense of unease. There had been rumors during the war about the ‘unnatural’ connection the Jedi had with their clones. Mon had always put it down to the crude speciesism which had been so prevalent around the clones. The strange behavior of the clones after Palpatine’s death had caused a resurgence. Not even the Jedi who’d been returned had known why they’d been held prisoner by their own troops when so many of their brethren had simply been sent away.

The more salacious bits of the rumors were no doubt lingering anti-Jedi propaganda, but Mon was starting to wonder if there was some basis to the theory. The clones had been created for the Jedi after all. Perhaps the Kaminoans had been a little more literal than anyone realized.


	8. Chapter 8

Cody stepped off the LAART/i and shook off ‘Kote’. Boil and Wooley were waiting for him along with his  _ jetii _ . They were dressed for recon work in light armor and with blaster rifles slung over their shoulders. Kenobi wore a set of transparisteel glasses that would give him a similar functionality to a bucket’s HUD while Cody’s men sported their old helmets. All three of them were smeared liberally with mud and foliage. The remains of a long day scouting.

“We heard you were coming home early and double-timed it back, Commander,” Boil explained as he stepped forward to clasp Cody’s forearm in greeting. “How was the city?”

“Full of politicians,” Cody replied wryly as he turned to greet Wooley as well. Kenobi stood back a small, fond smile curling his lips as he watched them. “But, we’ve got a preliminary trade deal to look over. So that’s something. General?”

Kenobi’s smile widened. He didn’t so much walk over as sashay, eminently aware of how much Cody liked the look of him in scout gear. “Welcome home, commander.” He reached up and cradled the back of Cody’s helmet as they touched their foreheads together. 

Cody let himself lean forward. Kenobi was stronger than he looked and took the extra weight easily. “I hope you caught something nice for dinner. We have guests.” He smiled as Kenobi’s eyes widened.

“Hello, Master Obi-Wan,” Commander Tano said cheerfully as she and Rex helped Naberrie out of the LAART/i. “Padme agreed to stay on and help Rex and Cody with the refugees.”

Kenobi inhaled sharply then Cody was being dragged into a ferocious kiss. Cody laughed into it, wrapping his arms around his  _ jetii _ ignoring the mud on his armor. “Thank you,” Kenobi murmured after he’d left Cody a bit breathless.

“It’s my genuine pleasure, sir.” Cody stepped back and watched as Kenobi rushed over to the women. His  _ jetii _ paused just before embracing them, aware he was covered in muck. Naberrie didn’t hesitate to step up and take his face between her hands before resting their foreheads together. There was a reason when she’d been Senator Amidala she’d been the nose art on half of the GAR ships. If Cody hadn’t killed Palpatine for his brothers and his general he would have done it just as quickly for his brothers and her. It was good she would be joining Rex’s people.

Boil took the excuse of Kenobi’s distraction to greet Rex with a hug the captain couldn’t dodge. “Good to see you too,  _ alor’ika _ . I was starting to think you were avoiding us.” Wooley restrained himself to slapping Rex’s shoulder with a grin.

Rex growled and knocked Boil off. “This is why I do,  _ di’kut _ .”

Boil just laughed at him. “We brought in half a herd of feral motts. You’d just be avoiding steak.” Cody and Rex both perked up at the news.

“You’re home just in time to help us clean and dress them,” Kenobi added wickedly.

Cody bared his teeth right back. “Perks of command, sir. I get to delegate.” He rubbed his thumb through a smear of tacky blood on his  _ jetii’s _ cheek. “So have fun, general.”

Kenobi’s eyes flashed gold. The air between them went staticky, but Cody didn’t blink. “Is that an order, commander?” Kenobi purred, turning his head so his lips were almost brushing the blood stuck to Cody’s leatheris gauntlet.

“Yes it is.” Cody’s hand darted back and seized Kenobi’s jaw bruisingly tight. “And so is this. Calm. Down.”

The gold flared electrum bright before receding as Cody glared. Kenobi shuddered. He put a hand in the center of Cody’s cuirass to center himself. Tano let out a poorly concealed gasp of relief as the cold pressure vanished with an almost audible pop. Cody moved his hand to the back of Kenobi’s neck in a comforting squeeze. “General?”

Kenobi inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly. “Better. Apologies for startling you two,” he told Tano and Naberrie. “I’m alright now. However, it’d be best if I went to bed early. We can meet tomorrow, perhaps. For breakfast?”

The two women agreed gratefully. Cody didn’t blame them. The first few times he’d seen his  _ jetii _ lose control had been unnerving. Boil took Kenobi’s arm with a nod for Cody. He’d make sure their  _ jetii _ made it safely to Cody’s quarters once the mott were ready for the kitchen.

This was why Cody hated being away too long. His  _ vode _ tried, but Kenobi was Cody’s general. When Cody wasn’t there, Kenobi felt the responsibility to act as officer in charge, and for a man who’s self-control was clawed inch by inch from the dark that was a dangerous proposition.

Rex’s eyes lingered on Cody’s  _ jetii _ as Boil guided him away, tracing the lines of the body clearly visible through his borrowed blacks. Cody knocked his elbow into his  _ vod’ika _ . Rex’s tastes ran sweeter than Cody’s, but no  _ vod _ was completely immune to the draw of possessing someone even if it was just for a night. Rex licked his lips and nodded back to Cody in acceptance of the implied invitation for later.

Cody waved Wooley over to deal with their guests. He’d done his part, and now what he wanted was a shower and chance to get out of his armor. This early in the day, the water showers in the fresher closest to his room would be empty with a full tank of hot water. Cody could stand under near scalding spray until his hands and feet pruned up.

He left his armor in his room after giving it a quick wipe down. His blacks went into one of the communal laundry hampers for the droids to handle. Cody made his way to the fresher in his skins, enjoying the cool air of the base eddying across his body, finally drying out the sheen of sweat he’d felt for the last three days. The fresher was empty and long since cooled from the heat and humidity of the morning rush. Cody stepped under the showerhead furthest back in the room and programmed the settings to the hottest available temperature for an hour and half. The computer beeped that the tank was full enough to accommodate the request, and liquid nirvana began to pour down onto Cody’s head.

Cody stood with his face tipped up into the spray for a long time. There had been something cleansing about standing in the rain on Kamino. When he’d been a cadet, the medics had prescribed a cream for his cheeks and lips which were always badly chapped from his habit of standing where the salt spray and cold rain could blow in his face. The sting of the water swept away ugly, dangerous thoughts before the long-necks could notice. Until just CC-2224, the most promising of the command stock, was left standing there with nothing in his head at all.

The soft, heavy drizzle of hot water offered a different kind of absolution. It was an indulgence that would have ‘ruined’ CC-2224. Unnecessary luxury made a soldier soft or said the long-necks. Having fought alongside Jedi, Cody knew a little bit of luxury was sometimes your only touchstone to sanity. General Kenobi had started giving Cody his water ration for the showers only a few weeks into their working relationship without any words needing to be exchanged. Kenobi had his tea. Cody had his showers. They both didn’t lose their minds. Or at least that had been the theory.

Cody lathered up a palmful of cleanser from the dispenser. He started by cleaning his hair, armpits, and groin quickly. A habit leftover from when any shower could be interrupted by a Seppie attack. With the necessities done, he could spend the time to run his foamy hands up and down his own chest and abs, feeling the layers of heavy, corded muscle packed over his bones. A sniper rifle was heavy and controlling it while remaining still for long periods required the kind of core strength people expected from heavy gunners, not scouts.

Cody traced the silky smooth texture of the lightsaber scars along his sides, pressing into the slight indentations where some of the bone tissue of his ribs had been burned away. There hadn’t been any pain. Kenobi hadn’t been able to do much, but no matter what Skywalker had done it hadn’t hurt Cody. Sidious had been a different story.

He rubbed his thumb along the branching, electrical scar that ended near his hip. It started on the bottom of his foot. Then he moved to scrape his callouses against his inner thighs, breath gusting out through his nose at the sensation. Reaching up with his right hand, Cody lightly dragged his nails up his stomach to his nipple. He pinched the bud gently and lightly tugged. What he really wanted was the delicate touch of white, smiling teeth while blue eyes looked up at him. Or Rex’s strong body behind him. One big, familiar hand on Cody’s cock while the other rubbed soothing circles on his chest.

A lazy smile curled Cody’s lip. He knew what he’d offer his  _ vod’ika _ as a distraction tonight. It wasn’t often Cody rolled over for anyone. Between his rank and his personal preferences, there wasn’t much opportunity. Rex, like he was for so many things, was the exception. They’d figured out how their deeces worked together (both the blasters and otherwise), and, with some covertly provided advice from a pained Alpha-17, how Cody’s ass made Rex pass out like he’d been stuck with a hypo of sedative. Laying on his side with Rex rocking leisurely into him from behind and a warm  _ jetii _ in front of him to suck Cody’s cock was exactly what Cody wanted before sleep.

“Cody?” The familiar, over enunciated vowels made Cody smile as he continued to tease himself. Kenobi, also in his skins, walked into the spray. “Hmm. Those feel like nice thoughts.” Pale hands calloused differently from any  _ vod’s _ , caressed Cody’s chest, nails trailing softly along the curve of his pecs, as Kenobi pressed up behind him.

“They are,” Cody agreed as he reluctantly moved his hand away from his own cock. There would be time for that later. “But that’s for tonight. I missed you,  _ ner’jetii _ .”

A smile was pressed into Cody’s shoulder. “And I you, my commander.”

The band of pressure, no pain just awareness, settled around Cody’s temples. The only crown he needed. His  _ jetii _ let out a soft moan as his mind unfurled through Cody’s, fitting back into the space Cody had carved just for him. “I’m going to give  _ Rex’ika _ a present tonight, sir,” Cody rumbled letting the syrupy-thick darkness bubble up like tar. “And you’re going to get me ready for him. If you’re good, I’ll talk to Tranq and Trapper tomorrow about some quality time. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a chance to play with all our boys.”

Kenobi shuddered, biting lightly at Cody’s shoulder. He knew what Cody wanted, and he both hated and loved it. “You’ll help me?”

“Of course, sir. Always. As long as you're honestly trying, I won’t let you fail.” Cody reached back and stroked over Kenobi’s flank to comfort him. There was a fine line between a challenge that would leave his  _ jetii _ desperate for more and one that would send him spiralling. Only Cody was allowed to walk him to that edge.

Kenobi kissed along Cody’s shoulder considering the offer. “What are you offering, specifically?” he asked too casually.

“That’s not the game we’re playing,  _ ner’jetii _ . The only thing you need to know is that you can’t touch yourself or come until I say.” Cody turned so he could wrap his arms around Kenobi, nuzzling into that smooth, slick, red hair. “We don’t have to. I can fuck that silver tongue of yours right out of your head after I’m finished with  _ Rex’ika _ .”

Hiding his face in Cody’s shoulder, Kenobi shook his head. “No. I think I need it. My little slip up on the landing pad proves that much.”

Cody nodded. “Do you want your tags?” Sometimes Kenobi needed the reminder. Sometimes anything around his neck was too much. He pressed a kiss to his  _ jetii’s _ forehead when he felt the nod. Lifting the chain from around his own neck, Cody wiped his thumb over the twin metal hexagons.

During the war, the  _ Vode _ had carried their ident chips as little lumps over their collar bones, easily accessed by a scanner swipe. The Jedi and the few nat-borns in the GAR had worn old-fashioned ident tags on chains around their necks. The metal chits were engraved with Kenobi’s name, ident number, species, a small symbol that could be read by a medic’s scanner (used to pull up medical files from the GAR servers), and the big jenth which had meant ‘Jedi’. On the back of each tag, in slightly less precise alignment since it’d been done with a metal punch not a machine, was ‘212 Bn’ and ‘CC-2224’.

Cody turned the tags so the backs would face up when they lay flat against Kenobi’s chest. “Don’t worry, sir.” He put his palm over the tags pressing them against Kenobi’s sternum hard enough the corners dug in. “I’ve got this.” Kenobi let out a near silent laugh before leaning his forehead against Cody’s.

Enjoying the warm, soft man in his arms and the hot water on his sore shoulders, Cody decided to start slow. “My shoulders are stiff, sir. You should do something about that.”

“Of course, commander.” Kenobi replied obediently. He slicked both his hands with cleanser before reaching up and digging his fingers into the solid mass where Cody’s neck met his shoulders. Cody braced himself against the wall of the shower on one bent arm letting out an appreciative groan as strong hands kneaded out the worst of the knots. He let his eyes slide shut, resting his forehead against his arm as his  _ jetii _ pushed his thumbs down either side of Cody’s spine digging circles into the thick, well-defined muscles.

When it felt less like his back was held together with durasteel cabling, Cody ordered, “Lower. You’re going to be opening me up for Rex with your mouth so make sure not to skimp on the cleanser, general.”

There was the sharp, wet noise of Kenobi sucking a breath in through his teeth. Cody bared his own teeth in a grin. “If you get your tongue nice and deep, I might even let you holster your deece for a little bit once you finish fingering me.”

His choice of words earned him a nip to the wing of his right shoulder, but Kenobi’s hands were already eagerly exploring the tight, round cheeks of his ass and the crease between them. A single finger probed carefully at Cody’s hole. When Cody flinched at the too sharp sensation, the touch changed to a soothing massage as Kenobi coaxed the reluctant furl with the calloused pad of his finger. Cody breathed in through his nose and blew out a slow stream of air between his pursed lips. Kenobi mouthed at the muscles of his upper shoulders encouraging him to relax as he slipped just the tip of a slick finger inside Cody. Then there was a strange, unsettling nudge as some warm water defied gravity to follow Kenobi’s finger.

Cody bit back a chuckle at the ridiculous use of the Force. Kenobi didn’t bother to muffle his own bright laugh as he twisted his finger, only pressed in only to the first knuckle. When he was satisfied Cody was clean, he carefully withdrew his finger. Cody shuddered at the small trickle of water that followed it.

Kenobi smoothed his hands over Cody’s ass in a silent apology, but the difficult part was over. With another pump of cleanser on his hands, Kenobi ran his hand down Cody’s body so Cody could feel him sinking to his knees. Clever hands parted the cheeks of Cody’s ass and fingers went back to stroking. Though only with the intent to touch not to penetrate. Once Cody was confident his  _ jetii _ was just playing to see Cody shiver in pleasure, he ordered, “Put that pretty mouth of yours to work, general.”

Cody ground back against Kenobi’s face. He moaned as at the hot plunge of a tongue into his hole, curling and uncurling. Teeth every so gently touched his rim as Kenobi sucked trying to bury himself in Cody’s ass. It was nice, but Kenobi’s tongue wasn’t long enough to reach the place Cody wanted him.

“Get some lube,” Cody ordered his  _ jetii _ getting impatient with the tease. “I’d like to get off some time this century.”

“Yes, commander,” Kenobi murmured thickly with a touch of sarcasm. He stood up to reach for the dispenser of lube on the wall. (Tranq’s addition to all the freshers after treating one to many bad reactions to cleanser in sensitive places.)

While his  _ jetii _ was turned, Cody spun and landed a stinging slap across his impertinent ass. Kenobi staggered forward with a gasp. “Care to rephrase that, sir?”

“Yes, commander,” Kenobi said much more breathily, pushing back his hips in hopes of a second smack.

Cody indulged him with a firmer, less stinging thud against his right asscheck which he rubbed gently afterwards. “Tomorrow,” Cody reminded him, moving back to lean against the wall.

Kenobi had gentle hands and long, slim fingers. He was also patient as he worked Cody open first with one finger then two. Cody’s body had to be coaxed into remembering it knew how to take cock. He closed his eyes and focused on relaxing as Kenobi scissored fingers inside him. Kenobi’s other hand slowly pumped Cody’s thick cock with his thumb brushing the leaking, pink head on every upstroke.

“Would you like me to help you finish, commander?” his  _ jetii _ asked with a kiss to Cody’s shoulder. “That might help you loosen up.”

“Yes, sir. I’d like that very much.” Cody groaned as Kenobi’s fingers brushed something inside him that made heat flash up his spine. “There, right there, sir.” Kenobi chuckled softly angling his hand to rock against that spot in a steady, tapping pattern. His hand around Cody’s cock tightened, moving faster. It was a gentle build-up leading to a soft moan as Cody spilled over his  _ jetii’s _ hand. Kenobi’s arm tightened around him, holding him steady as lips dotted soft kisses over his back while the water washed away the mess. His fingers were still moving slowly as a third pressed inside Cody only to stop as Cody groaned like someone had just buried a cock in him to the hilt.

Kenobi shuddered and rutted against the hard muscle of Cody’s ass. “Please,” he breathed, scraping his teeth along the bony edge of Cody’s shoulder blade. “I won’t come. Let me fuck you, commander. Please.”

Cody hummed and slid his hands lower down the slick tile of the wall. He bent his knees pushing his ass out to grind against Kenobi’s cock, feeling how it slid so sweetly over his skin. “You get ten, general. Make them count.”

“Thank you,” Kenobi breathed like he’d been offered a religious experience. He placed a soft, lingering kiss between Cody’s shoulders as he gripped his cock and ever so gently began to push into Cody. Cody breathed out in a long, slow, steady exhale. The pressure inside him always felt unnatural at first. He’d initially been trained to fear submission, to fear losing or perceived loss. The long-necks culled the weak first, before the fractious, so Cody had learned to fight then had it beaten out of him. There was a reason he rarely let anyone but Rex fuck him.

When Kenobi’s hips were pressed flush to Cody’s ass, he stopped and ran his hands up Cody’s sides and chest to pinch Cody’s nipples gently between his fingers. “Does that count as one?” he asked, rolling the tender buds gently to distract Cody as his body adjusted to the intrusion.

Cody snorted. “Now it does. Nine to go, sir.”

“Hmm, I shall have to spend them wisely then.” Kenobi used the excuse to keep still as Cody clenched experimentally around him. His  _ jetii _ was a little thinner than a brother which Cody was fine with at the moment. The second thrust was painfully slow for both of them as Kenobi drew all the way back until the tip of his cock was caught on the rim of Cody’s hole before pressing forward again at the same tortuous pace. To Cody, it was like having his guts rearranged from the inside.

Dropping his head, Cody let it hang between his arms as he hissed between his teeth. “Make the next two shorter,” he ordered. “You’re at eight now.” Kenobi’s next to thrusts were little more than grinding jabs. However, they did the job as the head of his  _ jetii’s _ cock bumped where Kenobi’s fingers had been rubbing, sending shivers up Cody’s spine. “Six left.”

“There?” Kenobi asked, pulling out part way before punching his hips forward, aiming for the spot he’d just found.

“Five, and yes,” Cody said through gritted teeth as his body remembered that, while this wasn’t his favorite form of bedplay, there were definitely merits. “You can go faster.”

Shuddering, Kenobi wasted his last thrusts with forehead pressed to Cody’s spine as he rabbited his hips too quickly for either of them to enjoy it properly. Cody didn’t protest because he knew his  _ jetii _ was trying to be good for him. Still, when Kenobi pulled out it left Cody feeling empty and a little nauseous. Two fingers immediately pressed inside him to soothe the feeling. “Did you bring anything?” Kenobi asked softly, mouth dragging tenderly over the back of Cody’s arm.

“In my room. Didn’t want to listen to Tranq bitch about hygiene if he caught me,” Cody admitted. He was a bit embarrassed he hadn’t thought ahead. This was hardly his first time.

“We’ll just have to improvise then.” Kenobi started to slide his fingers out.

Cody gritted his teeth against a whine of protest only to blink in surprise when he realized the pressure was still there. “I thought the Jedi took inappropriate use of the Force very seriously, general,” he said with a fond smile as he cautiously straightened up.

“Assisting my commander is a very appropriate use of the Force,” Kenobi counter grinning like the madman he was when Cody turned around to face him. “I'll walk you back to your room when you finish with your shower.”

“Your consideration is appreciated, sir,” Cody said dryly, leaning back against the wall and tipping his head up so hot water cascaded down his front. It flowed in rivulets over the sharply defined planes of his muscles. He pressed his hands against the wall to flex, showing off for his  _ jetii _ . A choked inhale told him the view was appreciated. Gently he cupped his soft cock to rinse it off using his thumb to clean under the foreskin. Then he turned around and bent over much further than necessary to rinse the excess lube off his sack and from around his now tender hole. The position nicely displayed the strength of his legs, pulling the muscles in his thighs and calves into sharp relief. Scouts might not have the raw strength of heavy infantry, but Cody could run for days in full kit if he had to.

Kenobi’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he watched. His lower lip was gripped tight between his teeth. When he saw Cody watching him, he said honestly, “You are possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

It was an overstatement. Kenobi had seen many, many beautiful things over the years. Most of them more attractive than one battered, old clone commander covered in burn scars. Still, in that moment, Cody’s  _ jetii _ meant every word. Straightening, Cody turned and ran his fingers through his short hair. “I can finish my shower later, sir. Right now I’d like to get back to my room and plug that hole you so kindly licked open. Then grab some shut-eye. On top of the sheets.” He gave his  _ jetii _ a positively feral grin. Kenobi was wide-eyed, lips slightly parted as if he’d just taken a shot to the head in the sparring ring, at the thought of Cody laying naked on his soft, blue blankets with one leg drawn up just enough so show a flash of the molded white plastoid of Cody’s favorite buttplug.

“Sir?” Cody asked innocently.

Kenobi exhaled messily. “Yes. Yes, let’s do that.”

Cody stretched again, raising his arms and going up onto his toes for a full body extension. The strange pressure inside of him moved smoothly with him better than any toy or tool. The best part of this little game was that Cody would get to sleep while his  _ jetii _ worked himself up until he stalked off in a huff for a cold shower. Lowering himself back onto the balls of his feet, Cody hit the button to turn off the showerhead and sauntered out of the showers without even bothering to dry off, leaving Kenobi to scramble to catch up.


End file.
